


Baggage Claim

by Haurvatat



Category: Tangled: The Series (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Geneva Convention violations, Moon!Varian, References to Genocide and Immigration Crises, Time Travel Fix-It, Varian writes his own fix-it AU, Varian-centric, excessive application of swear words, medieval politics, no really SO MUCH POLITICS, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-03-02 18:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18816919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haurvatat/pseuds/Haurvatat
Summary: Varian has invented a time machine.  Look, some mistakes were made in the past, only some of them by him.  Mostly by other people.  But the fact remains it's possible to change it all, to save everyone, to live the happily ever after that was stolen away after one stupid accident.He's just got to play it dumb in his 14-year-old body, act like he doesn't want to strangle everyone with a shoelace, and incite a massive coup d'état against the ruling class of Corona for gross incompetence.  Easy-peasy.-The time-travel fix-it AU nobody wanted, because I relate far too much to my angry murder child and I wanted a resolution that didn't involve being a dick to him





	1. Never

This was arguably the dumbest thing Varian had ever attempted, and he was including the incident with the silly string when he was eleven.

 

If a single thing went wrong, he was liable to liquefy his brain and die on the spot, and most of his experiments had a tendency to have at least three things go wrong, so the lack of wiggle room should have given him much more pause than it did.

 

But this… this was his one chance.  It wasn’t like there was anything left for him here.

 

Five years ago, he’d escaped the Corona prison, which was… surprisingly easier than it should have been.  Had he thought of it at the time, he would have left a written manual on how to secure a prison system properly.  Honestly, what were they thinking? When the government kept dangerous criminals in the castle literally right next to the bedrooms of their most valuable political figures, you’d really think the security would be top-notch, but hey, that was just how bureaucracy shook out.  His surprise and mild disgust were only furthered when absolutely nothing came of it. No increased city security, no wanted posters, no mass hysteria. The kingdom kept his escape entirely under wraps, ostensibly to avoid public panic and more to the point, to avoid looking really stupid.  Which they were. He’d slightly been looking forward to pundits cursing out the guards for being dumb enough to let an unarmed teenage boy give them the slip, but he’d have to live with the disappointment.

 

All the same, free at last, he had stopped by his old destroyed home one last time, kicking aside scraps of broken walls and automatons alike.  He’d grabbed everything that still looked serviceable and stuffed it in an old knapsack. He pressed his forehead gently to the mound of amber encasing his father, whispered a choked prayer, and left, never to return.

 

Varian gave up on freeing his father of his prison.  No, he had a better idea. Well, no. It wasn’t a _better_ idea, exactly, but it was one that didn’t involve getting thrown in prison for kidnapping royalty anymore.  If it took him a century to complete, that was just the way the dice fell.

 

Varian was going to invent a time machine.

 

It’d solve all his problems.  Undo all the harm he’d caused.  Prevent his father from ever suffering in the first place.  Varian could then comfortably challenge the genocidal tendencies and ineptitudes of the crown on his own time, free of the stigma that came with every dunderfuck from here to the hills of Gaul thinking he was just another traitor and therefore someone who didn’t come with valid criticism.  Revenge didn’t have to involve murder, just making a politician’s life a hellscape of public relations issues. Corona could be destroyed peacefully and quietly, its many codified miscarriages of justice corrected with just a little bit of guidance and a Crown Princess who was less keen on taking Varian’s head off with a cast iron skillet.

 

There would be infinite hope for a bright future… provided just a few things went differently in the past.

 

But time travel in the fanciful sense wasn’t possible.  Not really. He couldn’t send physical matter backwards in time, because that just plain wasn’t how it worked.  But a simple pattern of electric signals? Now that was doable. In theory, he could beam his own consciousness, complete with memories and intentions, back in time to just before everything went to shit.  It could be prevented, and Varian could set his plans in motion without having to worry.

 

He’d expected his research to take decades to complete, considering that alchemy alone wasn’t going to get the job done.

 

Varian had to learn magic.

 

Not much, obviously.  He had little to no natural talent for it, and it just… didn’t make sense.  Or maybe it did? There was a clear transfer of energy, cause and effect, but where that energy came from or how it was stored or measured?  None of that was clear-cut. Maybe magic was just a form of science nobody understood yet. Humans had been chucking objects at one another using an understanding of parabolic motion thousands of years before they figured out what the heck gravity was.  Surely this was the same principle.

 

The whole kingdom knew the story of how Rapunzel’s hair once held the power to reverse time, and that this potent magic was why she had been kidnapped in the first place.  So time travel was possible via magic, and it could handle years’ worth of bullshit all at once; this much was established beyond a reasonable doubt.

 

All that was left was to locate a power source.

 

Rapunzel’s hair was the obvious choice, and also the first option to be scrapped.  He really had to knock it off with the ‘kidnapping royals’ thing. It was going to get him into actual trouble one of these days.  Sundrop power was a no-go.

 

...How about Moondrop?

 

Research indicated that just as the Sundrop made a flower, the Moondrop make a weird rock or whatever.  Varian could steal the thing, hook it up to his contraption, and tally ho, off to the races. This was definitely a good plan and there was no way it could go horribly wrong.

 

It took roughly six minutes and eleven seconds to go horribly wrong.

 

He found the stupid thing, and then it embedded itself in his spine.  Great. Oh, and his hair turned neon teal. Yeah, cause that wasn’t conspicuous at all.  Thank heaven he owned hats and cloaks with hoods, even though there was no helping the way its eerie bluish glow wrecked his complexion.  Rapunzel got yellow light. Everything looked good in yellow light. Varian looked like he’d spent twenty years in a dumpster and had been dead for half of them.

 

Escaping after stealing something so obviously well-secured (though not well-secured enough) was much harder than getting in had been, and several screeching sirens and howling watchtower guards later, Varian limped home to his hidden cottage with a few arrows sticking out of a leg and in dire need of a painkiller.  And a disinfectant.

 

It wouldn’t matter.  Once he’d managed to transfer his consciousness with the power of the Moonstone Opal, conveniently embedded in his flesh, it would stop being a problem.  The present was none of his concern. The past was all that mattered.

 

Varian sank into a chair, wincing as he prodded the wounds in his leg.  He was going to have to yank the arrows out. Surely there was a better way to do it than yanking, though?  Oh man, there was going to be so much blood. Neither arrow had come close to a major artery, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make things worse on their way out.

 

“Come on, V.  Come on. This is hardly the worst thing you’ve done to yourself.  Deep breaths. Okay, bitch, let’s go,” he murmured to himself, breathing heavily and wrapping delicate fingers around the base of the arrowhead.  With a quick tug, he hurled the arrow across the room, stuffing a leather glove in his mouth to stifle a yell of pain. Sure enough, blood started pouring freely without the arrow there to block the flow, and Varian rocked back and forth a little and tried not to cry.  Cold, wet rag. Pressure. Fuck, and he had to do this a second time for the other one. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you _so freaking much_ ,” he said under his breath, to no one at all.  The stone at the center of his spine pulsed, sending a wave of ice throughout his body.  Oddly enough, it was a welcome sensation, lightly numbing the worst of the pain.

 

“I can do this.  I’m a grown man. I paid taxes.  I own a house. I went to prison.  Escaped prison. When I stub my toe, I don’t cry or anything.  I am a grown man, and I can do this and then it’ll be over.” Fingers shaking, Varian clenched his jaw, sucked in a breath, and pulled the second arrow free.  It was, unsurprisingly, just as bad as the first. Varian smacked his head onto his work table, desperate to distract himself from the pain.

 

“Romy, remind me not to get shot again,” he mumbled.  A raccoon curled up in a corner of the room perked an ear, but otherwise decided it wasn’t worth her time and went back to sleep.  Rudiger had lived a very full life for a wild raccoon, going out and getting himself a proper family. Only one of his brood had stuck around to keep Varian company after their father passed.  Romy was a good girl, rotund as the day was long, with a love of head scritches and bits of cheese.

 

It took maybe half an hour of sitting there, half-collapsed on his workbench, for Varian to get his breathing back to normal.  The bleeding had all but stopped, and a quick application of gauze and some bandages would keep them free of infection while they healed.

 

If they healed.

 

He finally had all the pieces he needed.  The time machine itself was completed, just inert without a magical power source.  What the magic was intended to do made no difference; raw energy was raw energy no matter how it was channeled.  The magic wanted to destroy, but Varian owned it now, and he was going to decide where it went and how.

 

Although in a way, the stone was going to get what it wanted.  It was going to get the chance to destroy an entire reality.

 

This world would come to a close, erased via paradox shift, when the past changed.  Two little arrows to the leg wouldn’t matter. A stone in Varian’s spine wouldn’t matter.  The blood spatters on the floor would be gone. Romy would cease to exist. And maybe the world would be a brighter place.  Maybe not.

 

That would all depend on how Varian handled matters.

 

The time had come.

 

With only a small stumble, Varian pushed himself up from the workbench, eyes locked on the contraption he’d made.  It was an ugly prototype of a thing that was meant to be strapped to the back like a knapsack, with a component crafted from a guard’s gutted helm to encase the head and spin magnets around in a circle, creating a way to analyze and record data about the exact electromagnetic configuration of a subject’s current consciousness.  That data would then be sent on its merry way to the past, if all went according to plan.

 

And if it didn’t, his brain could cease all electromagnetic function entirely, killing him on the spot.  Great and good. Nice to have a low-stakes plan in the works for once.

 

Well, no time like the present.  Er, bad phrasing, but the point stood.

 

“Let’s go fuck up the natural laws of causality,” Varian said, flicking a switch.

 

He heard the ungodly loud whirr of the machine on his head, and blacked out about six seconds later.

 

* * *

 

Embarrassing though it was, Varian was actually surprised to wake up alive.  Not that he doubted his genius or anything. Absolutely not. It was more that experience had taught him that the execution was where everything went wrong.

 

Taste was the first thing to come back, the heavy grit of dirt in his mouth.  With a groan, he rolled forward a bit to spit it out as much as he could, before realizing that the problem was only half-solved; he was literally face-down in the dirt, so the taste would only renew itself.  He had to get up.

 

Every single muscle screamed at him just for trying to roll a shoulder around to get leverage.  Worst of all was the horrible ache from his wounded leg when he-

 

Wait.

 

Varian could clearly feel the arrow wounds.

 

Had it failed after all?  Was he still in the present?  No, that couldn’t be right. Even without opening his eyes, he could tell he was outdoors.  He could hear birds chirping a morning greeting at a distance, could smell heavy morning frost, could feel the winter chill creeping in through his clothing, and of course the dirt literally pressed up against his face.  It was springtime in his own time, when he’d left. It worked. It had to have worked.

 

Trying to squint away the pain, Varian pried his own eyes open, trying to get a good look at himself.

 

There they were.  His old clothes. Enormous leather gloves that his father got him to prevent further acid-related hand injuries (those scars were a point of pride, thank you very much), the stained shop apron, everything.  Knobbly legs of a teenager not yet at the end of the growth spurt stage.

 

Legs completely devoid of visible injury.

 

Well… it worked.  This was unquestionably the past.  Varian could have smacked himself upside the head.  Of course he still felt pain. He’d designed the thing to copy his brain perfectly, including all the bits and bobs that were still receiving signals of agony from wounds that were no longer there.  It would fade in time, once his brain could figure out that the pain signal wasn’t renewing itself.

 

Most notably, the Moonstone Opal was no longer in Varian’s spine.  He’d expected as much. It was intended to be a one-way trip, so no big loss there, and it would make life easier that his hair was back to normal. For the most part, anyway.  From the corner of his eye, Varian could tell a random streak of hair was much paler than the rest, and blue-tinged. Fucking magic. Of course it would find a way to bleed backwards in time.

 

He did it, though.

 

He well and truly did it.

 

And then Varian stopped dead, mid-attempt to sit up.

 

Winter.

 

He’d been aiming for Autumn.

 

What if-?

 

What if he’d undershot the attempt?  What if he got home and found Dad still encased in amber?  What if nothing changed? What if nobody was saved? What if, time machine or no… Varian was still too late?

 

Blind panic overwhelmed everything else and Varian bolted upright, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed over him.  He had to get home. Now. Had to check. Bile burned at the back of his throat as he stumbled to his feet and began to run for all he was worth.  He knew these woods. Had grown up in them all his life. Knew where to go to get home the fastest, if there was a home to return to.

 

It didn’t take long at all to make it to the village gates, where Varian crashed through without a backwards glance, ignoring the annoyed shouts of the guard.  Eustace, the town’s one and only guard, was still manning the gate, so maybe that was a good sign? If nobody had evacuated yet, maybe he wasn’t too late. Maybe he hadn’t been abandoned yet.

 

Dad might still be alive.

 

Hope made his mouth run dry.  There. His house was right there.  Half-impaled on black spikes already, like so many of the other houses in Old Corona.  Old familiar anger stirred in his stomach, but was crushed out of the way by the onslaught of every other possible emotion.

 

Varian burst through the front door.  “Dad? Dad, are you here?” he shouted.  He hadn’t heard his 14-year-old voice in a long time.  It was a reedy, thin thing as it was, even without the terror clearly threading through every word.  “Dad?” No response. The panic rose.

 

He… he had to check the lab.  He couldn’t. He didn’t know he’d survive it if… if he…

 

He had to check the lab.

 

Every step felt like a march up to a hangman’s noose.  He wanted to stop, throw up, have a good cry, anything other than look at the place that had haunted his every waking thought for six years.  The place that destroyed so many lives.

 

The door to the basement was already ajar, darkness swallowing the narrow stairwell.

 

Did he-?  Ah, yes, in his pants pocket.  One of his small vials of glow-in-the-dark fluid.  He tapped it gently against his thigh, activating the bioluminescent compound he’d extracted from algae.  The light was faint, but enough that he wouldn’t trip. He could find a candle and his lighter once he got down there.

 

He couldn’t stand to look up from the steps as he made his way down.  If he so much as glimpsed the glow of amber, he was finished. Over before he’d even begun.  But at last, there were no more steps. He was in the lab. The literal and actual scenery of his worst nightmares, all of which had basically come true.

 

There was nothing for it but to look.  To force himself to face whatever truths this place held.

 

Like ripping off a bandage.  Fast was better than slow.

 

With a deep breath and a “fuck it” burst of empty confidence, Varian jerked his head back and stared into the darkness of the lab.

 

A faceted glint met his eyes first, reflecting back the light of his makeshift chemical torch, and Varian felt his heart stop.  No. No, it couldn’t be.

 

It actually couldn’t be.  Upon closer inspection… it was just the rocks.  Only the rocks. The fucking black spires of death that were to blame for the whole mess in the first place, but nothing else.

 

Varian sank down onto the floor and cried out of sheer relief.  He wasn’t too late. There was still time.

 

Dad was alive.

 

And oh holy astrals on high, he was going to have an awful time hiding this from Dad, wasn’t he?  He could hardly hold it together just seeing an empty room; what would it be like to see him face-to-face?  To hear his voice? To get a pat on the head? He was going to be a wreck, and there was going to be no hiding that.

 

As though summoned, the door upstairs clattered shut, and a voice filtered down the stairwell that Varian half-thought he’d never hear again.

 

“Varian?  Are you all right?  Lynn said you flew in here like a man possessed.”

 

_Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck._

 

Varian scrubbed at his face in record time, praying his eyes weren’t as red and puffy as they felt.  The illusion, if any, wasn’t going to last long, but it may very well buy him a few much-needed seconds.

 

“Down here, Dad,” he said, hearing his own voice crack at the end.  Please let Dad chalk it up to puberty.

 

And just like that, there he was, silhouetted at the top of the stairs with the light of the morning streaming past him.  An old, familiar figure, relatively relaxed in posture. Not frozen eternally in a desperate motion, clawing for freedom that could never be obtained.

 

A sigh.  “Varian, I thought I told you not to mess with the black rocks.”

 

“...I know,” he said, voice coming out a whisper.  “I just came down to grab my lighter.”

 

Varian watched Quirin’s form tense a little, shoulders round forward just a bit more, and knew he hadn’t kept the emotion out of his voice.  Even in the darkness, where his face was hidden, he couldn’t keep anything from Dad.

 

Quirin took the steps a little faster than was strictly necessary.  “You don’t need to roll right over Eustace and Lynn to get a lighter, son.  What happened?”

 

That was Dad’s soft voice.  The one he used when he knew something was really wrong but didn’t want to be pushy about it, just letting Varian take things at his own pace.  It was a peace offering, and one Varian would take advantage of. He couldn’t handle too much more of this as it was.

 

Without another word, Varian let the tears start back up again (had they ever really stopped?) and let himself fall into his father’s arms, hiding his face as best he could in the man’s chest.  Even if Quirin hadn’t noticed the crying, there was no way he could miss the way his son’s frame shook with aborted sobs. He wrapped his arms around his child, more confused than ever.

 

“...Varian?”

 

“Please,” he mumbled into Quirin’s shirt.  “Not right now. I promise I’ll tell you later, but not right now.”

 

Quirin stayed silent for a while.  Varian knew he was definitely freaking his dad out, but… there was no way he could confront it properly at the moment.  He needed this. Just having this moment, getting to be here. Not being alone. Having someone - just one person - in the whole world who loved him and wouldn’t abandon him.  Knowing he was that someone’s top priority, and returning the favor with his whole heart.

 

They stayed like that a while, a child crying like the world was ending in the arms of his bewildered and frightened father.

 

This was going to take a hell of a lot to smooth over later.

 

* * *

 

It was late in the night, after dinner and sending Varian off to bed, that Quirin slipped out of the house to head to the tavern.  He hadn’t been in… heavens, probably _years_.  Since Emilia died.  But the fact remained that the tavern was the social heartbeat of any town or village, and if you wanted gossip, you’d find it there.

 

Lowain was manning the bar tonight, and stared at Quirin with a blatant look of shock as he walked through the door.

 

“And here I was, thinking you’d never be out this way on anything but business,” he said, both elbows thumping down on the bar top, chin shoved into a hand.  “I don’t suppose you’d humor a man and actually ask for something to drink, would you?”

 

Quirin sighed, finding a stool.  “Maybe an ale. But just the one.”

 

“You’ve got it.  My old girl brewed it up herself.  Excellent batch.” The man busied himself finding a tall glass mug and tipping a generous portion of ale into it, careful to avoid sloshing.  “All yours, boss.”

 

“Thanks,” Quirin said.  He stared at the mug on the counter for a few moments, contemplative, before getting it over with and taking the first sip.  The ale around these parts usually had a lot more kick, if Quirin remembered correctly, but this was… tasteless and pale. And this was a good batch?  If they needed any more proof the land was dying around them, this was it. He could barely suppress a shudder, old memories flooding back.

 

Lowain leaned his full weight back on the bar.  “But seriously, boss, I ain’t seen you in here except to deliver news.  That butt of yours ain’t found a seat here in years. Did something happen?  I mean, apart from the…” He waved an idle hand towards the corner of the tavern, where a small outcropping of those godforsaken black rocks had stabbed up through the floor.

 

“...Are you evacuating?” Quirin asked, changing the subject and downing more of the ale.

 

“Not much choice.  I sell things, and if everybody else is leaving, I’ll have no customers.”  Lowain glanced around. “A crying shame. Built this place with my own two hands.”

 

“The way I remember it, you were sitting around and drawing up blueprints and everybody else was doing all the actual work.”

 

“Details, details.  It’s the thought that counts.”

 

“Muscles didn’t hurt, though.”

 

“I’ll concede the point,” Lowain said, gazing mournfully at his own limp noodle arms.  “So, how’s your kid? Hasn’t blown up much lately, and nobody’s sure yet if that’s a good sign or a bad one.”

 

Quirin hunched forward.  This was… well, it was probably something he needed to talk about.  And probably the reason why his feet had taken him here in the first place.  He looked up from his ale, and whatever was on his face must have been obvious, because Lowain winced.  “That bad, huh?”

 

“I have no idea what to make of it.  Yesterday, he- I’ve told him countless times not to touch the rocks.  They’re dangerous. He knows that, but he just… he doesn’t listen, and he’s so convinced there’s something he can do to save the village, never mind that these things - look, I know plenty about these rocks, and I’m well aware we can’t do anything about them.  Neither can the kingdom. He just has so much faith in himself and authority figures right now, and I don’t have the heart to tell him that we, the adults, are useless. If I did, it’d only convince him that his research is more necessary, and I have this horrible feeling like it’s going to get him killed if he keeps going with it.”

 

Lowain shook his head.  “Kids. They think they’re immortal, and it’s awful.”

 

“Or at least, yesterday that was my main worry.  And then today…” Quirin knocked back as much ale as he could in one mouthful.

 

“Yeah, heard something about him crashing through town and nearly bowling over, like, seven people.  Left a lot of people nervous, because when even Varian starts running, there’s usually something pretty scary right behind him,” Lowain said.

 

“That’s what I thought, too.  Spent a few idiotic minutes looking for whatever bear he’d probably pissed off,” Quirin said with a humorless snort.  “But then I figured I’d just ask him what the problem was myself, and I went home, and he was down in his lab…” His expression tightened.  “Never seen anything like it. I’ve never seen Varian just… fall to pieces like that. I called out to him and when he turned to look at me, it was like I was seeing a completely different person.  Somebody who’s been through hell. His eyes looked _haunted,_ Lowain.  I know you don’t have kids of your own, but trust me, that’s a look you never want to see in your child’s eyes.”

 

“I can imagine,” Lowain said softly.

 

“And then he wouldn’t explain.  Just asked me not to press him for details, that he’d get to it in his own time.  Started full-on crying like he did when his mother died, only somehow worse, and I had no idea what to do.  I still have no idea what to do. Is it the evacuation? Is that what’s got him out of sorts? Except that doesn’t make any sense, because nobody looks like _that_ over a thing that hasn’t even happened yet.”

 

Lowain reached over and swiped Quirin’s empty mug, moving it to the wash basin.  His mouth worked in a tight line, clearly debating whether or not to say anything.

 

“Do you know what happened?” Quirin asked.

 

“No,” Lowain said, shaking his head.  “Not a clue. Far as I can tell, today was perfectly normal and nothing bad happened.  No reports of giant monsters or criminals or anything of the sort. So… look, this may be out of line, and feel free to tell me if it is, but I think the best answer right now might be to just… trust your kid.  He said he’d tell you when he could. Trust that he will. Give him time. If it were something threatening his safety right now, he’d come to you for help, but the fact that he won’t share yet means he doesn’t think you _can_ help.  You said you didn’t have the heart to tell him adults are fallible?  Sounds to me like he already knows. What he needs now isn’t a savior, but a friend.  Hate to say it, but this village is a small one. He doesn’t really have friends his own age hereabouts.  There’s almost no support structure in place, apart from you.”

 

“But what if I _can_ help?”

 

“Then wait for him to ask you for it.”

 

“So I’m just supposed to turn a blind eye when my only son has a nervous breakdown in my arms?  Act like nothing happened?”

 

Lowain rolled his eyes.  “I didn’t say that, you horrid drama queen.  I’m saying… he’s got friends in the capital, don’t he?  And if something here is stressing him out, and he won’t come to _you_ for help-”

 

“You think he’ll talk to them.”

 

“Worst case scenario, he doesn’t tell anybody what’s bothering him and just plain has more supportive friends around him.  Hardly a bad thing. Plus, I know the blacksmith there a little bit. Xavier. Man’s an amateur herbalist himself, so he and Varian might find common ground in alchemy.  I can ask about setting up an apprenticeship. Plus, Corona’s got milder winters than we do, and we both know Varian gets sick at the drop of a hat when he’s cold. The boy needs more meat on him.”

 

Quirin turned the idea over in his head.  All in all, it wasn’t the worst plan. What twisted his heart painfully was the possibility of sending his son away when the boy clearly needed his father… just not in any way that seemed to make a difference.  What kind of failure of a father saw his child hurting, and then just sent the kid away? Washed his hands of the boy. Maybe it would be better for Varian, but it could also just make things that much more strained between them.

 

“Parenting should come with instructions,” he muttered, thumping his chin down on the bar in misery.

 

“I hear that.  Does that mean you want that second ale after all?”

 

“...What the hell.  Sure.”

 

* * *

 

Varian couldn’t believe his ears.

 

“...An apprenticeship?”

 

Quirin waved a piece of toast, not quite meeting his eyes.  “It’s just an idea. If you have interest in that sort of thing; obviously you aren’t obligated.  I just… get the sense that it might be nice for you to get away from this place for a while. See more of the world.  Get experiences that I can’t offer you.”

 

“But-” Varian stopped dead, staring in disbelief at his half-eaten breakfast.  He didn’t want to leave home. Couldn’t bear to leave, not after he only just got his father back.  He wanted to stay here, enjoy it, bask in the real possibility of a happy ending.

 

But.

 

This was actually perfect for his long-term goals, and he couldn’t deny that.

 

“There’s… there’s supposed to be a big blizzard coming.  Weather forecast predicts it’ll hit Corona next week,” he mumbled.

 

“Yeah, that’s part of my worry.  We’re putting off the evacuation until the whole thing has blown over and it’s a little warmer out, but as it stands, most homes here have gaping holes in them from the rocks.  Insulation from the cold is going to be a bit of a problem this year.”

 

Varian remembered.  He remembered the unbearable cold the day his father died, seeping in through the floors and the walls, the chill so pervasive it physically hurt just to breathe, to exist.  He remembered losing feeling in his whole body, stumbling half-blind through the white abyss to make it to Corona to beg for a life that was already stolen. He remembered the last of his warmth flickering out when he fell back in his home, calling out, praying for a response that never came.  That cold had never really left him, and he could still feel it in the marrow of his bones.

 

He really didn’t like the winter anymore.

 

“...How are you going to handle it this year?”

 

Quirin considered.  “It might be a decent plan to have everyone together.  If we insulate the town hall, stockpile a good bit of food and the like, we should have no issue waiting out the blizzard.  It’s only for a few days, a week at the most.”

 

The large town hall was in the center of the village, largely used by traveling merchants as a way-house, considering Old Corona had no inn.  Of all the buildings in the village, it had suffered the least damage from the black rocks, with only a handful of holes in the exterior. His father was likely considering converting it into a temporary shelter.  It just might work.

 

Varian made up his mind.  “Dad, I’m not going to ditch you when the going gets tough.  I want to help, and I swear I can. But I know there’s something I need to do in Corona, too.  So, if it’s okay with you… can I help with the insulation before I leave? I have a pretty good idea for how to seal up the holes in the walls and the floor.”

 

Quirin raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?”

 

“And also I might have figured out how to get the hot water heater to work on a smaller scale, so while people might not have hot water for baths and stuff, they can at least have it available for cooking.  It doesn’t explode anymore, I promise. Not even any knocking noises.”

 

“...Varian, we’ve talked about this.”

 

“At least the insulation?  Please, I know I can help. Look, I’ll test it out on our own place first, and you can check to be sure it’s viable.  There shouldn’t be any problems with that, right?” Varian asked.

 

Quirin sighed.  “All right. But if anything explodes even a little bit, we’re calling the whole thing off.”

 

“Sounds fair!  I’ll get my stuff.”  Varian ejected himself from his chair, racing down to the lab.

 

He was, after all, in his twenties.  He’d had time to iron out the problems in his original prototype, and develop the perfect hot water heater.  The main issue was going to be building a small-scale wind turbine to take advantage of the electrical charge it could produce.  A simple double-layered container, with the gap between the inner and outer layers filled with a simple stable compound that would decay with electricity to produce a gentle and controlled heat to warm the water in the main tank.  Disconnecting the electricity would cause the chemical reaction to reverse itself, allowing the water to cool back down and making sure the compound would be ready for use the next time. Ideally, there would be a third external layer with a vacuum between itself and the inner layers of the tank, producing as close to an adiabatic environment as was possible in the real world, but Varian was short on time and resources.  He’d been using one of those suckers for years with no ill effects. For the time being, he may as well scrap the wind turbine plan and aim for geothermal. Water wheels wouldn’t work in a blizzard if all the water froze solid, and he recalled the winds being so violent, he doubted a makeshift turbine would survive longer than a day or two.

 

Varian already had a fully fleshed-out plan for insulation.  He only needed two things: isocyanate and polyol resin. Just chuck them both at the hole in the wall, and they would expand to produce a thick, opaque foam that sealed up the gaps.  He had plenty of extra amines lying around that could be repurposed to give him the isocyanate, provided he didn’t end up accidentally poisoning himself in the process. Phosgene was a bitch even on the best of days.

 

Good thing Varian was a professional who had yet to blow up most of his lab _or_ die choking on poisonous gas.  Quality resume builder, right there.

 

Varian rolled up his sleeves a little higher, settled his gloves, and prepared to work through the day and night alike.

 

* * *

 

“Yeah, can you just hold it right there?  I can’t exactly pour this stuff onto a hole and expect it to stick to the open air.”

 

“Right here?”

 

“Hang on; angle it, like, ten degrees towards me.  There! Perfect. Thank you. Okay, just hold it right there and I’ll do the thing.”

 

Varian crouched by the largest hole in the side of the town hall, fully aware of the wide berth members of his community were giving him.  Most were familiar with how his experiments tended to go, but none of them had really seen him screwing around with something that wasn’t an experiment, but rather an already-established method.

 

He took a deep breath and held it, uncorking one beaker and pouring it out onto the piece of wood held precariously in line with the rest of the wall.  He grabbed the second beaker, stood a little ways back, and with a single flinging motion, chucked its contents while being careful to avoid breathing it in.

 

The reaction was nigh instantaneous.  Thick yellow foam began to froth and bubble along the length of the board, expanding quickly and sealing up the holes.  Varian could hear a faint yelp of surprise from Quirin, who had bravely offered to help from the inside of the building.  The sound was muffled; an excellent sign that the makeshift insulation was working.

 

It didn’t take long for the reaction to reach its conclusion, firming up.  The expansion slowed to a complete stop, and Varian nodded in approval.

 

“Okay, nobody try to sniff that for a couple hours while it cures, okay?  If your vision starts blurring, you’re too close. But yeah, that should do it.  Might not hurt to throw a tarp over it. I haven’t really used it for external stuff before, so I don’t know how it’s gonna hold up with water and ice.”

 

Quirin had wandered out of the hall, peering at the effect.  “I must admit, it’s not pretty, but it gets the job done.”

 

Varian beamed up at his father.  “I do my best.”

 

“It’s appreciated.”

 

“On that note-!”

“Varian.”

 

“Look, I know you said no to the water heater, but hand to the astrals, I really did iron out the kinks.  It’s perfected. Please-”

 

“Varian.”

 

“How do you know it’s bad if you won’t give it a chance?”

 

“Varian.”

 

“...What?”

 

Quirin was half-laughing.  “Maybe just one thing at a time, all right?  Humans are nervous and jittery creatures when confronted with new things.”

 

“A critical failing of the species as a whole.  But you know what’s not a critical failing of humanity?  The part where we invented hot chocolate. Which is hot. And would benefit greatly from a hot water heater.”

 

“Will you leave it alone if I try it out at home up until the blizzard and then make an executive decision?” Quirin asked, hand covering most of his face.

 

“A reasonable compromise.  Let me write up a manual on how to use it and fix it if something breaks, okay?”

 

“I- yes, all right.  Just please don’t get carried away,” Quirin said.

 

“Me?  Never!”  And with that Varian jogged briskly back down the street towards their home, dodging around a few outcroppings of the black rocks that were steadily destroying the roads.

 

Quirin had no idea what to make of it.  Where had all this confidence come from?  He glanced back at the new insulation, bulbous and ugly but still effective.  He’d never once seen Varian experimenting with anything of the sort before. Surely something like this required a little trial and error before seeing practical application?

 

“He’s growing up, isn’t he?”

 

Quirin was a dignified man with plenty of military experience, and so did _not_ jump a foot in the air at the voice behind him, but it was a near thing.

 

Lucy stood behind him, the village’s main grocer.

 

“I- yes.  Yes, indeed.”

 

She smiled at him knowingly.  “You raised a good boy, Quirin.  There’s no shame in enjoying the fruits of your labors.  Even if it involves strange foam that might be slightly poisonous, if Varian’s earlier warnings are anything to go by.”

 

Quirin flushed lightly and ushered them both away from the newly-patched hole.

 

“So, I take it you heard he’s got an apprenticeship in the capital?”

 

Lucy nodded.  “Word may have gotten around.”

 

“Lowain.”

 

“The man can keep quiet about nothing, and we both know it.”

 

Quirin worked his jaw a little.  “Varian’s going to be fine.”

 

“It’s not him I’m worried about.  He’s survived more than enough explosions to prove himself.  I’m worried about you,” she said frankly. “You’ve never had to deal with empty-nest syndrome before, and I’m watching it happening now.”

 

“It’s not empty-nesting.”

 

“Oh?”  She raised an eyebrow and stared at him.

 

“...Fine, maybe a little.”

 

“He’ll be back soon enough, just watch.  He’s only fourteen. He’ll get homesick in about six seconds flat, pretend he’s fine, and then you’ll see him in a week when he snaps.  I know these things.” She nodded sagely.

 

“I’d prefer he stay safe during the storm, but all the same,” Quirin sighed.  “On that note, do we have enough food stockpiled to wait this thing out?”

 

Her mouth tightened.  “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

Quirin’s face fell grim.

 

“I wish I had better news for you.  I’m sorry, but we’ve barely got more than half of what we need if we’re going to be stuck inside for a week.  Unless the storm is much shorter than anticipated, we’re going to have to subsist on half-rations for everyone, and you know how dangerous it is to do that in the cold.”

 

“We won’t have the energy to warm ourselves up,” he muttered.

 

“I’ve sent word to my merchant contacts in other villages, but they’re all dealing with similar issues.  I doubt we’re going to get help from them. For another thing,” she sighed, “the roads are all but blocked.  The northern and western roads are covered in those damnable rocks. No wagon with provisions can get through there.  Individual travelers on foot or horseback, certainly, but no wagons. And of course, it remains to be seen what can be done once the storm is over.  If we have no food after that, we’re all finished.”

 

“I thought we had emergency grain stored away for this exact reason.  And cured meats.”

 

Lucy winced.  “About that-”

 

“Don’t.  Let me guess.  The rocks?”

 

“They punctured the base of the grain silo ages ago and nobody noticed.  By the time we figured out what went awry, half the stock was molded or infested with rodents.  We’ve salvaged what we can, but… Quirin, we have barely any time left. I know we’re prioritizing the evacuation as soon as the storm blows over, but we simply do not have the resources.  There’s nowhere we can go that can support a population this large. They’re all going to be overtaxed as it is. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have a mass-scale refugee crisis on our hands.  All these rocks crept from over the border, and they’re certainly not stopping at our village. We can’t make it through a long journey, but - correct me if I’m wrong - we can’t outrun these things for long unless we make it a fair distance south.”

 

Quirin wouldn’t meet her eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  “I know.”

 

“Then, when the king offered extra land to the east, where it’s not actually going to be better for much longer, why did you take the offer?  Why didn’t you ask him for a better solution? We can’t keep doing this,” she said.

 

“Because land to the south wouldn’t be better, either,” Quirin said.  His voice sounded defeated enough that Lucy almost took a step backward.  “You said it yourself: we’re looking at a potential mass-scale refugee crisis.  We may see immigrants cross the border into this land, and we know for fact the rocks will outpace them.  Corona’s being overtaken, and there really isn’t anything the king can do about it. Not any more than we can.”

 

Her face tensed.  “You think if you tell the king how bad it is, he’ll close the border.”

 

“And if he does that, the refugees won’t have anywhere to go.”

 

“Is that really a solution?” she asked.

 

“There is no solution.  I don’t mean to sound fatalistic, but crops are going to fail at higher rates now.  More roads will be impassable. People are going to die either way. I just… don’t want anyone to die because of something silly like where they happened to be born.  If I’m going down, I want my humanity to remain intact til the very end.” He looked up, meeting Lucy’s eyes, darkness in his own. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but a man has his pride.”

 

She made no move to answer for a moment, collecting her own thoughts.  “I’m not sure it does make that much sense to me… but it feels admirable all the same.”  Lucy rested a hand on Quirin’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “That’s part of why you’re sending Varian away, isn’t it?”

 

“...He’ll be safer if he has a place to go that isn’t here.  Old Corona is finished. I need to know he’s safe,” Quirin said.  His voice was barely a whisper.

 

Lucy had nothing to say to that at all.

 

* * *

 

Varian hummed to himself as he grabbed a pencil and started zooming away in a notebook.  He couldn’t recall ever having been this excited and happy… pretty much ever. He was definitely still riding the high that came from having his dad back, but it was more than that.  He could use everything he’d learned over the last five years and use it for the thing alchemy was always meant to do: help people. He could use it to save lives, protect those he cared about, change the world.  Alchemy would cure diseases, produce more food than could be eaten, transform lifeless soil into rich farmland, and solve every modern problem of mankind.

 

And this was the first time anyone had thanked him for his help.

 

Well, maybe not exactly.  His dad had said it was “appreciated”, which was close enough.

 

Alchemy was more than a hobby.  It was Varian’s lifeblood. So maybe it just really nice to have someone see the thing that made Varian who he was, and find that thing useful and convenient.  He was _appreciated_.

 

He could do things right.  Maybe even be a hero to his people one day.

 

Varian hardly paid attention to what his hands were doing as he wrote out the instruction guide, beginning to pencil in diagrams of the hot water heater for user convenience.  He found his mouth unconsciously forming the words of an old nursery rhyme he’d heard only a thousand times growing up.

 

_The moon you felt,  
_ _It has no side_

 

He felt lighter than air.

 

_That’s dark like hell  
_ _Or safe from light_

 

The room was actually pretty cold.  There was only so much improved insulation could do, considering Varian was right by a frosted-over window, to be fair.

 

_Just blown apart  
_ _By wind from stars_

 

It might be worth it to grab a blanket or a coat when he headed back outside.

 

_With white dust tides  
_ _To pull on ours._

 

Varian finished the diagram with a smile, and reached over to grab the coat slung unceremoniously over the back of another chair… and stopped dead.

 

His hand.

 

His whole arm.

 

His whole body.

 

Were all invisible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember, i haven't actually watched the show, so don't nobody yell at me cause i'm an emotionally delicate creature with anger management issues
> 
> also we're just gonna pretend a) like they've discovered the electron, and b) like varian is capable of isolating isocyanate with his bullshit lab even though we all know he'd knock himself unconscious if he tried. DO NOT DO IT, KIDS


	2. Gonna

“Eugene!” came a high-pitched yell down the halls of the royal castle, excitement and joy echoing off every surface.  “Eugeeeeeene!”

 

Eugene barely had time to turn around before 110 pounds of girl and another 12 pounds of hair slammed into him like a wrecking ball, nearly flinging him bodily out of a window if not for a lightning-fast hand grabbing onto the frame.

 

“Blondie, please, we’ve talked about running hugs near open windows,” he said, mildly strained.

 

“Oh, I know, I know, I’m just- sorry about that, Eugene, I’m just really excited!” Rapunzel said, clapping her hands together and backing up enough that Eugene could right himself.  She was bouncing on her bare heels, grinning from ear to ear.

 

“What happened, then?”

 

“Okay, so you know how Mom and Dad are going away on a little romantic couples vacation for their 25th anniversary, right?”

 

“Yeah.  And you’re in charge while they’re gone,” Eugene said.

 

“Yes, but I just heard that wintertime is basically kingdom-wide apprenticeship time!  Since nobody’s really got anything to do what with the harvest being in, everybody gets an apprenticeship learning vocational skills.  People from all over the world coming here, wandering around, learning stuff. Eugene, I wanna do one, too! Actually, I want to do twelve.  Do you think they’d let me? I think they’d let me.”

 

“Considering you’re their crown princess, I’m going to hazard a guess that they’ll let you do anything you want.”

 

“Yes!  Fantastic.  Man, this whole princess thing works in my favor sometimes.”

 

Cassandra chose that moment to make her appearance, looking haggard as she turned the corner at the end of the hall.  “Tends not to work in your bodyguards’ favor, though,” she groused.

 

Rapunzel winced.  “Sorry, Cass. I should have waited.”

 

Cassandra held up a hand.  “Nah, you’re good. Rider didn’t fall out of a window, so I didn’t miss anything interesting.”

 

Eugene glared at her and stuck out his tongue.

 

“Raps, you’re dating a five year old and I’m judging you harshly for it.”

 

“I’ll have you know that my childlike demeanor is one of my many charm points.  That, and there’s nothing that says ‘child’ quite like desperately trying to prove you’re an adult.”

 

“Bite me.”

 

“Guys, please.  Side note: guess who’s also coming in to town for the winter?”  Rapunzel looked back and forth between her friends, bouncing a little again.

 

“I’ll bite.  Who?”

 

“Varian!” she said.

 

Eugene and Cassandra exchanged glances.

 

“Look,” Cassandra said, “I like him.  He’s a good kid. But, uh… what exactly is he supposed to be doing here?”

 

“The apprenticeship thing?” Eugene guessed.

 

“Yup!  He’s going to be staying with Xavier.  Something about herbalism helping out his alchemy work.”

 

Identical winces.

 

“Xavier?  As in, Xavier the blacksmith?  With access to loads of on-fire and combustible things?” Eugene asked innocently.

 

Rapunzel rolled her eyes.  “Guys, he only blew something up that one time-”

 

“-That we know of.”

 

“Also the something he blew up was his whole town, so…”

 

“I have it on very good authority that he’s blown up nothing since,” Rapunzel said with pride.  “C’mon, he’s a kid. Didn’t you blow stuff up by accident when you were a kid? I’m sure it happens to everybody.”

 

Cassandra bit back a laugh.  “Raps, I know your childhood wasn’t exactly typical, but I can assure you that explosions are a rarity for most children.  Varian’s a statistical outlier on the best of days.”

 

“I’m not saying we wouldn’t love to have him here, but what are the odds he could take an apprenticeship doing something less, uh, volatile?  Something like… I don’t know, basket-weaving or whatever,” Eugene said.

 

“He’s going to be just fine where he is,” Rapunzel said.  “Plus, you know, maybe while my folks are out of town…” She shrugged.  “Maybe we can all get together? Us, the Snuggly Duckling boys, everybody.  Not like a party, but casual.”

 

“I don’t know what would be worse, them getting into a fight or becoming best friends,” Cassandra said, shaking her head.

 

“Better.  You meant better, right?”

 

“I- sure, what the hell.  Yeah, better.”

 

“They could trade battle scar stories,” Eugene snickered.

 

Cassandra adopted a gruff, growly voice.  “‘Here’s the scar I got from assassinating the Archduke when his personal bodyguard dueled me, kiddo.’”

 

Eugene put on a squeaky kid voice.  “‘Here’s the scar I got from detonating a laundry cart where the shrapnel grazed me!’”

 

Both devolved into helpless giggles.

 

Rapunzel huffed.  “Who among us hasn’t wanted to detonate a laundry cart once or twice in our day?”

 

Cassandra made a face.  “Wish I could deny it.”

 

“I haven’t,” Eugene said.  “Laundry carts are really useful for making clean getaways after a heist.  Nobody looks under piles of dirty linens. I owe those things my life.”

 

“Gross.  Didn’t peg you for the type to dive into a stack of dirty underwear, but I’ve been wrong before.”

 

“Hey!”

 

Rapunzel shared a look with Pascal, who shook his head at her.  Unbeknownst to her, she and Varian sighed in unison and muttered, “It’s going to be a long week."

 

* * *

 

Varian was barely holding it together.  Just a few more days until he shipped himself off to the capital, apparently with _super illegal and impossible magic running through his veins for no fucking reason._

 

The invisibility had worn off within seconds, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen.  When it had first happened two days ago, he’d lost his entire shit and choked on a scream before having a full freak-out session.  And then, because the scientist in him couldn’t be denied, he began experimenting on himself.

 

The same song worked every time.  It was just a nursery rhyme that had been around since time immemorial… so of course the damn thing was magic.  Of course. Just his luck. Granted, it did make some sense. His father was an immigrant from the Dark Kingdom, which had of course been the home of the Moonstone Opal.  If the nursery rhymes of the Dark Kingdom traced back to Moon-related magic, it wouldn’t be that out of left field, any more than Corona’s incessant worship of Sun-related symbolism.  Honestly, the whole thing was heavy-handed. Did subtlety count for nothing?

 

Most of the data was useless.  Invisibility was the only thing he could do at the moment, and that in turn was probably the dumbest application imaginable.  He had to sing to do it. Invisibility and inaudibility were two different things. How was being invisible supposed to help if people could just listen and follow the sound of his voice?  Magic was stupid and dumb, and Varian hated it.

 

Some good news was that his hair was still very much cuttable.  He would have lost his mind if it had suddenly become indestructible like Rapunzel’s.  Not that long hair would have inherently been a bad thing, exactly, but Varian had a hard enough time keeping body parts out of reactive chemical compounds as it was without trying to control mile-long strands of keratin.  No mass-produced hair tie could hope to contain _that_ disaster.

 

That one strand of lighter hair, left over from his time-traveling adventures, had gotten lighter.  It didn’t seem to glow… or maybe it did glow and the glow was just invisible. It was impossible to document physical responses to invisibility magic.  Mirrors did not help, in contradiction of many legends swearing up and down that mirrors would reveal that which could not be seen by the naked eye. Apparently all of those were bullshit.  And yes, he’d checked in silvered glass as well as normal, cheap mirrors.

 

He had no healing properties to speak of.  Varian had made a small painless incision on his forearm to test it, and gotten absolutely nowhere with it.  He’d tried his own incantation, Rapunzel’s, and a few other random nursery rhymes from his childhood, and apart from just… being invisible… bugger-all.

 

Varian was stuck with a useless superpower.

 

Oh, and yet another secret to keep from his father, because there was no way on the good green earth that Quirin would fail to recognize the Moondrop’s power if Varian tried to tell him what was going on.  It sucked. Quirin might honestly have been one of the few people who could actually help, but there was no way Varian could explain without revealing his whole hand. He couldn’t tell his dad what had become of the world.  Couldn’t tell him how he died. Couldn’t admit to the absolute shitshow that ensued, most of which was (sort of) Varian’s fault.

 

It wasn’t supposed to matter in this timeline.  That was the whole point.

 

The Moonstone Opal had other plans.

 

The worst news of all was that Varian had no other options: there was only one person left who might understand bullshit astral-related magic problems who wouldn’t ask questions that couldn’t be answered.

 

Rapunzel.

 

Did he really have to ask _her_ for help?  Did he? Was this the universe’s way of rubbing his nose in his mistakes like a bad puppy who pissed on an expensive rug?  Because it felt like it. He was trying to fix things, doing his best, helping people. Surely the universe could cut him a break.

 

And so it was with no small amount of distaste (that was ruthlessly crushed and hidden away) that Varian penned a letter to Rapunzel in the capital asking for help in the vaguest way possible.  It grated like nails on a chalkboard, but he did it. To be fair, if there were ever a context in which he could put aside personal grievances, it would be research, and that’s what this was.

 

Avoiding snippy remarks in person would be a trial unto itself.  Maybe he could play like he’d picked it up from Cassandra. Heaven knew she and Eugene sniped at each other every waking hour of the day and maybe a few not-awake hours of the night, too.  Varian could play the impressionable teen surrounded by bad influences. It wouldn’t even be a lie.

 

If this was going to be his life now, it needed to be under control.

 

A knock fell upon Varian’s door, heavy and muffled.

 

“Dad?” he asked, shoving his notes into a drawer in his desk.

 

The door creaked open, Quirin’s head poking in ever-so-slightly.  “Thought I heard you in here.”

 

“Yeah, just… just packing up.”

 

Quirin smiled.  “You know you aren’t leaving til the day after tomorrow, right?”

 

Varian couldn’t stop his own answering smile.  “Yeah, yeah, I know. But like, you know how when you pack last-minute you inevitably forget something super-critical and then you remember like an hour after you’ve left?”

 

“The underwear debacle last midwinter,” Quirin muttered.

 

“Look, I wasn’t going to bring it up because I wanted to spare you the embarrassment, but if you bring it up yourself, then there’s very little I can do,” Varian said.

 

Quirin shook his head and entered the room properly.  “It could have been worse,” he said with a shrug. “Could have been medication.  Underwear, at least, we can be sure is sold in every town. Medicine is harder to come by.”

 

“...Yeah.  Yeah, you’re right,” Varian said.  His mind drifted.

 

Actually, that wasn’t a bad thought.

 

A couple of weeks - or even months - in the capital weren’t going to be long enough to accomplish what Varian needed to do, and it certainly wouldn’t gain him unfettered access to the royal family.  Rapunzel was easy enough to talk to, but most of Varian’s targets were higher up on the food chain and distinctly less likely to talk to a greased-stained commoner monkey like him. In the back corner of the room, Rudiger batted around an empty glass bottle, chewing on the cork.  Yeah, the raccoon wasn’t going to help his image, either. Rud was a good boy, but damn if the nobility didn’t have some mysterious problem with objectively cool pets.

 

“Hey, Dad?” Varian asked as he snapped back to the present.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Do you… do you think I could ever be good at pharmacy stuff?”

 

Quirin blinked in surprise.  “I don’t see why not.”

 

“I know I’m a hard alchemist and all, but medicine’s not too far out of my area of expertise.  It just seems like a useful thing to know.”

 

“I was under the impression you’d been making your own burn cream for years.”

 

Varian flushed.  “Well, yeah, I mean- I use it less than I used to!  The gloves are doing their job.” He wiggled his leather-clad fingers, all ten of them still intact, to prove the point.

 

“Seems to me that if you can make effective disinfectants for wounds, it shouldn’t be too difficult to figure out medicine,” Quirin said.  “Xavier is an herbalist, and they do some pharmacy work, if your primary interest was in using medicines and not…”

 

“Surgery?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Varian winced, suddenly reliving the pain of yanking arrows out of his leg.  “Yeah, no, I’m not good with blood and wounds and stuff. Not a good time for me.”

 

“Not a good time for anyone, generally,” Quirin said.  He wasn’t looking at Varian, but rather an old acid burn etched on the floor.

 

“...Dad?”

 

He didn’t answer for several drawn-out seconds, but when he did finally respond, it wasn’t encouraging.  “Hm?”

 

“Are you doing okay?”

 

“Huh?  Oh, yes.  Anyway, if you can stand to leave the packing alone for a few minutes, dinner’s mostly ready.  Could I ask you to peel and chop a few carrots to roast?”

 

“Yeah, no problem,” Varian said.

 

“All right.  See you downstairs.”  He turned to leave, closing the door behind him.

 

Well that was weird.

 

Varian hadn’t actually dug into his family’s past much in the future.  It didn’t seem relevant. There had been some records that his family originated in the Dark Kingdom and eventually immigrated to Old Corona, but that was about all he knew.  As for what had driven them out… some records indicated that the emergence of the black rocks had something to do with it, and others placed the black rock incident well after Quirin had left, so the timelines didn’t make sense.

 

He’d never asked his father about his past before.  It somehow didn’t seem like something he should do. Uncharted waters.  His curiosity should have been raring to go, but all it took was seeing that shadowed look on his father’s face and the question would die on his lips.

 

Well… this world wasn’t the one he’d left behind.  He had time. He could ask later. Or never at all.

 

Varian glanced at the rest of his room and remembered that he probably ought to do some _actual_ packing.  And laundry.  No part of the floor was visible under stacks of books, papers, and unceremoniously-flung dirty laundry.

 

Unbeknownst to him, he and Rapunzel sighed in unison and muttered, “It’s going to be a long week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> purely a self-indulgence fic. let's not pretend i know what i'm doing here


	3. Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: "Did I Mumble?" is now named "Baggage Claim" cause it's funnier

The castle walls were a lot more intimidating than Varian remembered.  It was probably just the part where he’d fled five years ago and associated the place with death ever since, absolutely convinced that return would mean execution for being too much of an asshole.  It was why he’d spent all that time near the border, or in outlying countries where nobody asked questions of suspicious strangers with coin.

 

It was bright and cheery for a drab winter afternoon, but all the same.  Shivers up his spine.

 

“I can help you get settled, but I’m afraid I can’t stay long if I want to make it back before dark,” Quirin said apologetically.

 

“No big deal, Dad.  I’ll be fine, promise.  I’m gonna be home in a week or so anyway.”

 

Quirin sighed.  “I know, but… you’ve never been away from home this long.  You have everything you need for meals? You made sure to pack food for Rudi-”

 

“Triple- and quadruple-checked before we left the house, Dad,” Varian said.  Rudiger, somehow cognizant of his conversational relevance, saw fit to contribute by chittering and ducking between Quirin’s feet.

 

“And you know you can come home whenever you like if you need, right?”

 

“I do.  I’ll send letters with updates every day if it makes you feel better.”  Varian tried his best to hide a smile and failed. “Maybe I should be the one asking if you’re gonna be okay while I’m out.”

 

Quirin spluttered.  “I have been at the bachelor game longer than you’ve been alive, you cheeky brat.  I can do laundry and cook just fine.”

 

“Do the kitchen towels require non- or chlorine bleach?”

 

“...Chlorine?”

 

“Bzzt.  Wrong. Try again.  So close.”

 

“Fine, fine, point made.  Can I get a consolation prize at least?” Quirin asked, opening his arms almost imperceptibly.

 

Varian beamed, and dropped his pack in the dirt to wrap his arms around his father.  “We’re both gonna be fine, I think. We’ve got lots of nosy people to check in on us if we do something stupid.”

 

“We did end up kind of lucky that way, didn’t we?”

 

“Possibly, although I think it has more to do with the scope of our mistakes rather than the coincidental charity of passerby.”  Varian dropped down and scooped his pack up, hoisting it over a shoulder.

 

There was really nothing for it but to waltz right on in.  Back in the place that wanted him very much dead last time he’d been here.

 

Dad was here with him.  It was different this time.  He wasn’t going to be beaten to death in the streets.  No guards would point spears at his throat or send hunting dogs to tear his legs apart so he couldn’t run.  It was just a stupid apprenticeship and nothing more.

 

It looked as though the people of Corona were, surprise surprise, cleaning up after a festival or party of some kind.  If memory served, the meteor shower had coincided with the Queen’s birthday this year, so leave it to the kingdom to go hog-wild and drink themselves down a few IQ points.  Again.

 

Honestly, it was like the entire kingdom  _ wanted  _ to suffer from alcohol poisoning.

 

A shopkeeper swept up confetti from his porch and waved kindly at Varian, who managed to tamp down the fear of being noticed enough to smile nervously back and nod.  He turned to his father. “Hey, um, how far is… uh…”

 

“Xavier?”

 

“Yeah.  Xavier’s workshop.”

 

“Not much further.  He’s the city’s main blacksmith, so he set up shop close to the guards’ quarters.  It’s not like anyone else here really needs weaponry or horse shoes,” Quirin said.

 

Fantastic.  He was going to be jumping a foot in the air every time guards stomped by in the coming week.

 

Sure enough, the shop itself took very little time to reach and was easy to spot from the main road.  It was a humble structure, mostly open to the air to prevent the heat from the forges from building up too much.  Xavier himself was up and about, bustling around a teakettle placed atop a simple brick oven forge.

 

“Ah!  Quirin!  I wasn’t expecting you for another hour,” Xavier said.

 

Quirin marched up and clasped hands with the man good-naturedly.  “What can I say, we made very good time. The roads were clearer than expected.”

 

“Here’s hoping they stay that way, eh?”

 

“Down here, probably.  But up north? We’re going to get hammered.”

 

“Be sure to stay warm, my friend.”

 

“Would that it were that simple.”

 

Varian tuned out the small talk and eyed the workshop with immense curiosity.  He’d probably been here once or twice in his past life, but couldn’t remember any of it.

 

There were multiple forges of varying sizes, which made a good deal of sense.  Firewood and oil cost money, so there was no sense in heating a volume of air much larger than was needed.  The one Xavier had going at a full roar now was perhaps double the width of Varian’s forearm, but not much bigger.  It could have been a clay-brick version of one of his father’s shoeboxes. The sides were haphazardly bricked up to prevent the heat from escaping, so he couldn’t exactly see what was being forged in there.

 

Lining the walls were shelves stocked with bottles and jars, few of which were labeled, but were recognizable all the same.  Some simple acids for etching and cleaning. Compounds used to descale flaking iron. Powdered flux. Obviously all the oils needed to light the forge in the first place.  There was also a mound of clay with scoops missing from its side, just sitting there. Did Xavier make his own forges from scratch? Or did that serve some kind of function for the forging of items themselves?  (Assuming, of course, that it wasn’t there just because forges could be repurposed as kilns and used for making little ceramic sculptures. For some odd reason, ceramic unicorns sold like hotcakes around these parts in spite of Varian never having laid eyes on one outside of a store’s window display.)  Surely if there were something like clay coating a metal, the heat wouldn’t reach it effectively, and it would never… oh. Ah, that was clever. Untempered steel was softer, and had more give. If you coated the spine of a blade with clay before firing it, you could temper the edge, but keep the spine soft for increased durability and flexibility.  

 

Well, look at that.  He’d learned something new within five minutes of wandering around and poking at shit.

 

One wall was entirely devoted to hammers.  Unsurprising. Another corner was stacked high with bricks of raw metal, or billets.

 

Another corner had two large barrels of liquid that Varian didn’t want to touch, whatever they were.

 

And of course, the anvil smack-dab in the center of the workshop.  The thing was pitted and scarred a thousand times over, and was likely a good few hundred years old.  Most blacksmiths’ anvils were. Hey, if it hadn’t broken, why fix it? Plus, it was a bitch to move those things around.

 

...Come to think of it, what happened when an anvil was retired?  If it stopped being useful, did they melt it down? Was it even possible to melt it down?  The whole point of an anvil was that it could withstand an insane amount of heat without melting, so that seemed strange.  Was there an enormous pile of old anvils somewhere?

 

“-arian.”

 

“Huh?”  He whirled around.  “Sorry, I missed it.  What happened?”

 

Quirin winced, but Xavier looked mildly amused.  Xavier gestured down at Rudiger, who had stuck relatively close to Varian’s ankles since entering.

 

“I must admit, I was not expecting  _ two  _ apprentices this week,” he said.

 

Varian flushed.  “Uh-oh. Lowain probably forgot to mention.  Sorry. Look, I swear, Rudiger is really well trained - or, as trained as a raccoon  _ can  _ get, I suppose - but yeah, he won’t get in the way or break stuff.  He’s really good about being careful. He’s been in my lab with loads of breakable stuff for ages and the only thing he’s done is steal my lunch a lot.”  That reminded him, “I’ve got food for him, so you don’t have to worry about that. Got it in the bag. It’ll be like he’s not even here.”

 

From the floor, Rudiger scrambled up Varian’s leg to perch on his shoulder, nodding fervently.

 

“How can I say no to a face like that?” Xavier said.  “But please, do keep an eye on him. You can have infinite care and still have accidents.”  He removed a thick leather glove, showing a massive pale gleaming scar on the side of his left wrist.  “Even the very wisest are not immune to the whims of fate. Or, in this case, the whims of tiny feral creatures.”

 

Varian couldn’t tell if Xavier meant him or the raccoon.

 

“You betcha.  So, uh, what are you working on now?” Varian asked, glancing over at the lit forge.

 

Xavier tugged his glove back on.  “A scythe for a friend of mine. It both dulled and picked up a terrible warp.  Not tempered properly. All the shaping was more or less already done, so it was a simple matter of pounding it true.  I’m on the tempering stage now.” He nudged one of the bricks walling off the forge out of the way and peeked inside. “Another ten or fifteen minutes or so, and then I will be ready to quench in water.”  He gestured to one of the barrels of mystery liquid in the corner.

 

Varian blinked.

 

In water?

 

So then, was the second barrel oil?

 

But then why-?   
  


His thoughts were interrupted by Xavier laughing.  “I see you’re worried about cracking.”

 

Had he been that obvious?

 

“Don’t be worried.  I have been doing this for many years.  Quenching in water certainly carries risk with the metal cooling too quickly, but it can be mitigated.  An oil quench may be safer for the blade, but it is much less safe for my forge,” he said, gesturing. “If the oil alights and splashes onto my workshop, I might lose my livelihood.”

 

“So why do you have the oil at all?”

 

“I don’t take chances with the quality of weapons for the royal guard.  I have been entrusted with the security of a kingdom, and I do not take it lightly.”

 

“Also you can charge more for the higher-risk project from rich people considering you live in the capital, which is chock-full of ‘em?”

 

“Maybe also that.”

 

Xavier cracked a grin and Varian couldn’t help returning a small one of his own.  Yeah, they were going to get on like a house on fire. Hopefully not literally.

 

Quirin gently cut in.  “Is there somewhere I can-?”  He adjusted the weight of the bag hanging from his shoulder pointedly.

 

“Oh!  Certainly.  I may not have much in the way of lodgings to offer you, Varian, but there is a futon in the back where you may stay, if you wish.  I have heard you have friends in the capital, so if you choose to stay with them instead, it may be a more spacious option,” Xavier said.

 

He better not be talking about staying up at the castle with Rapunzel.  Varian would sooner drown himself in that barrel of oil. While it was on fire.  “I think I’d prefer to stay here, if that’s all right.”

 

“Excellent.  I’ll show you the room.”

 

True to Xavier’s word, it was indeed a tiny room.  It was more of a supply closet than anything else, but Varian had spent months in a prison cell and a closet with a door he could open and close all by himself was positively cozy in comparison.  A fully made-up futon was tucked in a corner with only a yard or so for clearance at the side.

 

“Where would you like me to put this?” Quirin asked.

 

“Anywhere’s good. Just dump i- wait no don’t dump that; it has glass stuff in it.  Uh, the futon, then?”

 

Quirin squinted.  “Why did you bring glass things with you?”

 

Varian broke eye contact.  “Uhhh… for science emergencies?”

 

“Mm-hm.  And what is  _ in  _ the glass things?”

 

“...Stuff I use to create science emergencies, generally speaking.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

 

Varian clutched his own bag to his chest.  “Look, I promise I won’t cause trouble. I just… kinda… feel better when I have them, I guess.”

 

Xavier had wisely ducked out, given the size of the room and the size of Quirin, for which Varian was grateful.  He knew he was going to need every single thing in his bags, and that he couldn’t possibly explain why he knew he’d need them without admitting clairvoyance, but it still felt like lying.  And okay, maybe his chemicals  _ were  _ a little bit of a safety blanket for him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to admit to vulnerability he didn’t really have.

 

Playing an emotionally fragile 14-year-old was surprisingly easy sometimes, and it felt like his own history was calling him out because of it.

 

Quirin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Varian, I need you to promise me you won’t run experiments here.  I know you’ve had fewer failures and explosions lately, but tempting fate doesn’t seem like the thing to do when you’re lodging with a man who is, to you at least, a stranger.  You have a wonderful opportunity here. A bright future ahead of you.” Well, one future was, anyway. “You can’t afford to tempt fate by playing around with… with things you don’t understand.”

 

Anger spiked in Varian’s stomach, followed shortly by shock.  Things  _ Varian  _ didn’t understand?  More like things  _ Dad  _ didn’t understand.  Dad was supposed to be on his side, right?  What the fuck was this?

 

At the same time, he absolutely was not allowed to be mad at his father.  He’d gone through so much to get him back. Lost so many years of his life for the sake of loving this person.  He wasn’t allowed to get mad. Couldn’t be angry at somebody he was supposed to love. Plus… Dad wasn’t entirely wrong.  He did specifically call out a ban on “experiments” and not “fucking around with chemicals”, and an “experiment” was doing stuff when you didn’t necessarily know for sure what the outcome would be.

 

Varian smelled a loophole.

 

“I promise.  No experiments.”

 

And he wouldn’t.  He’d only do alchemy that was already tried and true, honed from years of living out in the wilderness and dodging imperial authorities.  At that point it wasn’t an experiment, it was simply a process.

 

Quirin looked relieved.  “Thank you. I will let you detonate things to your heart’s content once you’re back home, all right?  It’s just for one week.”

 

“Dad.”  Varian gave him his best unimpressed look.  “I am more than capable of going several weeks, months even, without blowing something up.”

 

“Don’t worry, son.  We all have dry spells.”

 

“Dad!”

 

Quirin guffawed and nudged Varian with an elbow.  “No, but in all seriousness… this is your first step toward success.  I know you’re going to do great. I’m really proud of you for taking a chance and doing your best.”

 

Fuck.

 

Varian was going to start bawling like an infant, and Xavier was going to be weirded out and think he was a crybaby and regret having to babysit for a whole week and everything would be ruined.

 

But fuck, Dad had said  _ those words _ .

 

“Thanks, Dad,” Varian managed to squeak out before his throat locked.

 

“I’ll see you in a week, all right?  Should probably be heading out now if I want to make it back before dark.  You’ll be okay?”

 

Varian nodded furiously and scooped Rudiger into his arms to hide the shaking.

 

Quirin gave his son a quick pat on the shoulder, the raccoon a quick pat on the head, and waved to Xavier in thanks on his way out.

 

And just like that, Varian was back in the capital, feeling more painfully alone than he’d felt since waking up in this body.

 

Xavier knocked gently on the open door frame, poking his head in.  “Varian? While you and your father were talking, it seems someone arrived.”

 

“Huh?”

 

A massive burst of golden waves crashed through the doorway, bright emerald eyes locking onto Varian like a dog with a pork chop.

 

“Varian!  I saw you arrived in town, and you didn’t even drop by to say hi to me first?  Welcome back to Corona!” Rapunzel crowed, smile like physical sunshine and equally painful to make eye contact with.

 

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the title of the fic cause I found one I liked better. Didn't really put any thought into the original one.


	4. You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thine shitshow proceedeth

“Ohhh, I’m so excited you’re here!  Technically speaking, I don’t think I’m supposed to be here cause I have deportment classes and I’m double-booked for law studies and people seem to be under the impression that running a country is something that needs practice - who’d’a thunk it, right?  So anyway, I’m skiving off the whole thing because you’re my friend and I haven’t seen you since the invention competition that you definitely should have won, and are you planning on inventing stuff while you’re here? It’d be so cool if you invented stuff while you’re here.  I got into it briefly and it was loads of fun but then various circumstances beyond my control hijacked my life - like that’s anything new - and it fell to the wayside, which is a crying shame. So what I’m trying to say is, if you need me for literally anything at all, I’m your girl!  Come yell at me! Castle’s not hard to find in a pinch. Also I just saw your dad leave here crying and saying his little boy is all grown up. Is that normal for him, or…?”

 

Varian felt like he’d been hit in the face with a sledgehammer six times in a row.

 

“...What.”

 

“Y’know what?  Not a big deal.  Never mind. So how ya been?”  Rapunzel asked.

 

 _Enduring the ultimate suffering, often at the hands of you and your family._  “Pretty good, I guess.”

 

“Awesome!”  She snuck in closer, and Varian flinched away from her.  Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice. “I got your letter,” she said in a low voice.  “It was pretty vague, but I’m sure if there’s something you need research help on, I can get you the reference materials.  I can help out in terms of manpower, myself. If I’m lucky, I can pass off the library time as studying for other subjects.  Whenever you want to go into detail, let me know and I can clear my schedule. Sound good?”

 

Varian nodded.  Research. Safe topic.  If he could concentrate on the future instead of the past, it was something.

 

Five years was a long time.  Honestly, having that much time to reflect on the situation as an adult instead of a child had given Varian some perspective.  Yes, most of it had been an accident. No, the royalty of Corona did not deliberately engineer a genocide against his people (most of whom were immigrants) by ensuring their homes were all destroyed.  No, the crown wasn’t overtly racist (although maybe a little bit subconsciously). Everyone was probably just very very stupid, and that was enough to explain most of the events of his past. There had been shitty decisions made at every point of the process, but Varian had to admit that hardly any of them had been made in actual malice.

 

What had been the hardest to swallow had been the realization that it was entirely possible to have a world full of people who cared about you… and still have every single one of them hurt you.  It was a cruel and cold world where love didn’t protect anyone at all. Trust could be violated in an instant, and there would be no defense against it. Everyone was an individual with their own priorities, and when those priorities clashed, someone was guaranteed to get hurt.  The younger Varian had come to the conclusion that there was only one option: clearly, the world was a fair and good place, and it was Rapunzel who was evil and cruel, and that was why things went so sour. Someone had ensured his suffering. So long as there was an enemy, there was a solution, and that solution was winning.

 

There was no winning against the surging tide of reality.

 

But that didn’t mean that the old, misinformed bias didn’t sit in the back of Varian’s head like a virus.  He _knew_ that Rapunzel wasn’t evil.  He knew that.

 

He just… couldn’t quite internalize it.

 

“Can we talk someplace private, then?” he asked.

 

She nodded.  “Can do. Are you all right going up to the castle in an hour?”

 

Varian turned to Xavier.  “Before I make any plans, what kind of stuff did you have planned for today?  Anything I can help with?”

 

Rapunzel whirled around, a slight flush of embarrassment coloring her face.  “Oh! I forgot! Sorry. Don’t mean to monopolize your apprentice, Xavier.”

 

Xavier waved a hand.  “Today should just be getting acquainted with the workshop.  Work goes faster when you have some idea of where everything is.  Disasters happen with disorganization.”

 

Varian blinked.  “Oh. I already know where everything is.”

 

Both Rapunzel and Xavier stared at him.  “Are… are you sure?” Rapunzel asked.

 

“South wall, second-to-left shelf. What is the middle jar?” Xavier asked.

 

“Steel powder, the ten-ninety.”

 

The other two continued staring, expressions losing some incredulity.  They were still in the back room. None of the workshop was visible. Varian was going off pure memory.

 

“Where is the embossing hammer?”

 

“Currently leaning up on the side of your anvil, but it’s supposed to go in the blank space on the west wall, right between the riveting and the forming hammers.  Seventh from the right.”

 

Xavier glanced over the west wall and began counting over from the right.  “...Well, I’ll be.”

 

“Was I right?”

 

“Nope.  The blank space was the eighth one over, but all the same. And here I thought you were having a joke at my expense when you said you knew where everything was.  Feel free to take the rest of the day for personal matters.” Xavier smiled. “Go have fun. Youth only comes once.”

 

 _It does if you’re a quitter._  “Thank you, sir.”  He turned to Rapunzel.  “Is now a good time?” All the better to get this over with.

 

She lit up.  “Absolutely! I’m going to need a meat shield for when Cass realizes I ran off without her!”

 

“Hm.  I might just stay here after all.”

 

“No, please, c’mon!  It was just a joke, I swear.  That’s what I keep Eugene around for.”

 

At last, Varian managed a real smile, if only at the thought of Cassandra running Eugene through with her halberd.  He set Rudiger carefully down on the floor, giving him a light scritch under the chin before straightening.

 

“Well, lead the way, Prin- uh, Rapunzel.”

 

* * *

 

The castle itself was a lot brighter a place than Varian remembered.  Granted, he wasn’t looking at it from behind bars, or stealing away in the dead of night, so that likely contributed.

 

“Lot of people here, huh?” he muttered.

 

“Yeah!  Stragglers left over from Mom’s birthday party.  Some of the more remote nobility showed up to give gifts and stayed for a bit.  They’re heading back today or tomorrow, for the most part. Gotta clear out before the snow comes, right?” Rapunzel said.

 

“If I didn’t know better, you almost sound excited about the storm,” Varian said.  He tried to keep the accusation out of his tone. There was no way she could know what was in store, after all.

 

She shrugged.  “I guess a little?  I only ever saw snow at a distance from my tower.”

 

Varian winced.  Right.

 

“First bit of advice about snow: maybe wear boots.”

 

Rapunzel turned to him and made a face.  “...Do I have to?”

 

“If you want to keep your ability to count to twenty, yes.”

 

She rolled her eyes.  “It can’t be that bad.”

 

“Ever heard of frostbite?”

 

“...I’ve read about it.  But that’s what happens when you spend hours exposed to ice and snow, right?  And I can just nip indoors whenever I need. Frostbite’s not going to make my toes fall off.”

 

“You think reading a book about it makes you the expert?” Varian said.

 

Some sharpness must have found its way into his tone because Rapunzel’s stride faltered briefly as they rounded a corner, heading toward the southwest wing of the castle.  “Honestly, either way, I’m not planning on taking chances. Playing in the snow is fun and all, but I really do have to think of safety first.” Her eyes glued themselves to the floor.  “Mom and Dad are going to be out of town when the snows hit. It’s their anniversary. I’m probably going to be stuck indoors the whole time anyway. I don’t know that I could justify ditching all my duties and playing around, no matter how much I want to, so don’t worry too much about me.”

 

It might just have been Varian’s imagination, but she looked a little paler than she had before.  Was she… nervous? He’d seen her panicked before, sure, but never nervous. Not for something a week away.  Maybe the pressure of leading a country wasn’t something she took lightly after all.

 

Being secretly in his twenties, he couldn’t help but see how painfully young Rapunzel was.  She was only eighteen. Practically a baby. Terribly unsure and unused to living outside of whatever an adult told her to do.  Varian wondered if the controlling nature of her prior guardian had played some role in her return to her rightful place as heir to a kingdom.  Had she done it to reforge the family she lost, or had she just… needed somewhere to go? Someone to tell her what came next? Guidance was hard to find, and Rapunzel was a young woman who had made very few decisions for herself her entire life.

 

And now she was suddenly being asked to make all of the decisions for everyone.

 

In retrospect, no wonder she’d sucked so badly at it.

 

“Your Highness!”

 

Both of them flinched at the sharp voice behind them, and slowly turned to face the accuser.

 

Nigel.

 

The rat bastard.

 

The reedy creature stalked up to Rapunzel, ignoring Varian entirely.  “Your Highness, we put up with plenty of your antics. Many go so far as to find them charming.  What is _not_ charming is when you abandon your exceedingly important deportment studies to go play with… the rabble.”  He finally spared a disdainful look for Varian, and a worse one for Rudiger. “I understand the emotional support aspect of your lizard’s presence, but be aware that this castle is not a zoo.  Vermin are not permitted.”

 

Varian came within an inch of grabbing a vial of concentrated lye and forcing the son of a bitch to drink it when Rapunzel intervened.

 

“Rudiger is a fully trained raccoon, as you can see from his general demeanor.  He’s not on a leash, and yet follows his master faithfully. Nigel, you have nothing to worry about.  Unless you wish to express doubt in my judgment?” she asked cooly.

 

Nigel bristled and gritted his teeth.  “I would never, Your Highness.”

 

“And yet.  At any rate, if you wish to confirm what I say, you’re more than welcome to follow Varian and Rudiger and see for yourself,” Rapunzel said.  Varian gave her a carefully neutral look of disappointment and upset. “But I understand if you are a busy man and unable to do so.”

 

“I… yes.  Yes, I am very busy.”

 

“So I suppose the deportment lesson will have to be rescheduled for whenever you’re free next?”

 

“...It will.  I will contact you.  And I will be letting your parents, Their Majesties, know of the scheduling upset while I’m at it.”

 

“Please do.  Makes life easier for everyone!” Rapunzel said with a radiant smile.

 

Nigel traipsed off, somehow more irritated than before, but unable to do anything about it.

 

Varian stared in awe.  Just like that, with a few words, she shut him down.  Didn’t even blink to do it.

 

“Those diplomacy lessons actually did something, huh?”

 

“Maybe.”  She turned on a heel and continued, and Varian had to trot to catch back up.

 

Had it just been Varian, or had Nigel been… antsy?  Insulted that his advice hadn’t been obeyed? From Varian’s memories, on that fateful night, Rapunzel had been emotionally torn between her duty to her country and her duty to her friend, and Nigel had been the unwanted asshole who screamed that Varian should be ignored.  The same man had then had guards throw Varian back out into the snowstorm that surely would have been a death sentence for anyone less prepared for the weather.

 

Nigel had fully intended to let Varian and his father die, and hadn’t shown even the slightest speck of remorse about it that Rapunzel had.

 

Sure, maybe revenge against the royal family was no good…

 

...But the pompous jackass who clearly wanted to manipulate the royal family for personal gain was fair game.

 

There wasn’t really a plan at the moment, but all in due time.  Varian could workshop it over the coming week.

 

“You said somewhere private.  There are a few small, soundproofed rooms inside the library itself,” Rapunzel said.  “We can use one of those and then get straight to researching, if that works.”

 

“It’s perfect.  Is this it?” Varian asked, gesturing to the enormous twin doors before them.

 

“Yup.  Here we g- oh, hey, hold on a moment,” she said with her fingers on the door handle.  “Have you been in the national library before?”

 

“No,” Varian said.

 

Rapunzel lit up.  “Oh boy. You’re in for a treat, then.”

 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s a room with a lot of books in it.  What could be that surprising about-?”

 

Rapunzel didn’t give him the chance to finish the sentence and threw the doors open, impressive shoulder muscles rippling visibly even under the dress sleeves.

 

The room itself was… surprisingly small, actually.

 

Obviously the place was gorgeous.  Height had been used to make up for the lack of width, evidenced by the three tiers of walkways lit by a massive skylight.  Expensive wood gleamed from every bannister and stairway with the faint smell of oil-based polish and binding glue. Fine rugs covered some of the floor and black marble tiles with mother of pearl inlay took care of the rest.  There were a few potted plants soaking up the midday sun, and hanging flower planters hooked over a few of the wrought iron bannisters along the topmost tier. The rest, wall to wall, was books. That much was expected. Bookshelves crammed full, perhaps more than was advisable.  They really needed to expand the place just to make room. There was no way they could house any more than what they already had without a renovation, and for a national royal library, the collection was suspiciously modest in size.

 

“...It’s really nice,” he said.  Diplomacy.

 

Rapunzel looked smug, for some odd reason.  “Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

 

That gave pause.  It likely wouldn’t have given Varian confidence even if he had trusted a single word out of the woman’s mouth.

 

“Follow me,” she said, going over to one of the bookshelves on the main level, perusing the volumes.  It looked to be a collection of historical documents, most of which tracked legal precedent. None of these were going to help him with magic-related problems, so it was a little surprising when Rapunzel found whatever boring book she’d been looking for, grasped the spine, and-

 

_“Oh, holy shit, did it just-?”_

 

The bookcase rotated to reveal a secret room behind it, complete with desks, oil lamps, and of course more bookshelves.

 

Varian unintentionally took a step back, hands reaching up to bury themselves in his hair.  He laughed a little in utter delight.

 

“Oh wow.  Mother of mercy.  You guys just… Wait, are _all_ the bookshelves like this?” he asked, whirling around.  There had to be a hundred of them.

 

“Yup,” said Rapunzel.  The smug look made sense now.

 

“There are like a hundred side rooms?”

 

“One hundred and twenty-six.  Counted them myself. All the bookshelves are lined in metal.”  She rapped a knuckle on the back of the bookshelf that swung wide, and a clanging noise answered her.  “It’s to make sure that most of the collection survives if there’s a fire. If each room is sealed off, everything’s contained and it can’t spread very far.  Xavier helped design some of it in his younger days, from what I’ve heard.”

 

Varian vibrated in excitement, discomfort in Rapunzel’s presence forgotten.  “You have to let me see these hinges. The _craftsmanship,_ the- oh, wow, these are magnificent,” he breathed.  “The weighted pedal such that when you take off the correct book… I want seven hundred of them.”

 

“You’re stuck with the one-twenty-six, I’m afraid.  Nothing saying you can’t build your own one of these days, though.  Bet you Xavier would share the blueprints if you asked.”

 

“Yes.  Absolutely.  I will be doing that.  Look, I don’t know who decided to make the first secret passageway, but we’ve all been searching for that level of innovation and coolness ever since and have fallen woefully short,” Varian said.

 

Rapunzel laughed and nodded.  “Well, at any rate, this is what I meant when I said we wouldn’t be overheard.  This is as soundproof a room as we’re going to find in the Palace, or anywhere else.  You did say you wanted privacy.”

 

The present reasserted itself, along with the reminder of why there were here.  Varian cleared his throat and let the smile fade, nodding. “Yeah. Solid plan.”

 

They walked into the side room and Varian fiddled nervously with the hem of his sleeves while Rapunzel set to work lighting the lamp on the table before closing and locking the bookshelf-door behind them.  The walls were somewhat reflective from the wainscoting up, likely the fireproofing metal, and it made even the dim light of a single oil lamp much brighter.

 

“So…” she began, “I read the letter, and you just said something about needing help with magic stuff.  I thought we already tried every possible experiment on my hair and nothing worked.”

 

Oh boy.  Here came the most awkward moment of Varian’s young life.  Less young than appearances indicated, but still relatively young.

 

He took a deep breath.  “Okay, so… I was vague on purpose.  Cause - I mean, first I should clear up that I’m not talking about your hair or whatever magic it’s still got, if any.”

 

Rapunzel cocked an eyebrow and took a seat at the desk, staring at Varian with rapt attention.  “Oh? So there’s other magic stuff apart from me floating around?”

 

Varian laughed nervously.  “I mean, I guess so? Seems to be the way of it.”  He really had to get this shit over with. Fast was better than slow, right?  “I might be the other floating magic stuff.”

 

Silence reigned.

 

“...Come again?”  Her face was absolutely blank.

 

“The other day a strand of hair turned white-” he yanked at the offending lock, “-and when I sang a random nursery rhyme, I turned invisible.”

 

Rapunzel’s eyes glazed over.  “I think I need to sit down,” she murmured.

 

“Hate to point this out, but you’re already sitting down.”

 

“I need to sit down better, then.”  And with that, she slid out of her seat and thumped ungracefully onto the floor, shock finally setting in.  “You… you really…”

 

Varian winced.  “Yeah.

 

She looked up at him, and he was taken aback by what he saw in her eyes.  If he didn’t know better…

 

...he’d say it was absolute  _heartbreak._

 

“How long ago was this?” she asked.

 

“A little over a week.”

 

Rapunzel’s eyes were filling with unshed tears and Varian couldn’t do this anymore.  He turned away from her to stare into the light of the lamp, reflected crudely off of the metal wall plates.

 

“I went out in the woods, ended up taking a nap out there, and kind of… woke up like this.  I didn’t find out about the invisibility thing until a while after, though. Nasty shock for me, I’ll tell you that.  But at least Dad doesn’t know yet. I was alone when it happened, thank heaven, so I can keep this whole thing as under-wraps as possible.  Dunno how much longer I can keep it up, though. You see why I need your help figuring out what the hell this is,” he said.

 

“I… yeah.”  Rapunzel’s voice had never sounded so small.  “I’m not sure how much help I can give, though.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Moth- er, Gothel… she never taught me much about magic outside of what I could do.  Does your hair heal things like mine did?”

 

Varian made a face.  “No. Tried it out. Bupkis.”

 

“It’s just the invisibility?”

 

“Far as I can tell.  I tried a bunch of other nursery rhymes and songs I knew, and they didn’t do anything at all.  Also, how dumb a power is that? If you have to sing to do it, it kind of defeats the purpose of being undetectable, right?”

 

“Mm.”  She wasn’t really listening.  “Would you be willing to do it now?”

 

“The song thing?” Varian asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

He worked his jaw.  “...Do I have to?”

 

“I just want to see what we’re working with.”

 

He shrugged.  “Fine, but I’m not that good a singer.  Consider yourself warned.”

 

And with that, as quietly as he could manage, Varian sang the verses he could recall, and felt a vaguely familiar tingle he’d once mistaken for a chill in the air.

 

The first things to go were his fingers, gloves and all.  The illusion seeped through, racing up his wrists, arms, and shoulders as he sang.  His legs and torso vanished in a swirling mist that evaporated into empty air, and Varian felt nothing at all when the mists finally overtook his neck and head.

 

Magic had never felt this effortless back when he was trying to learn it for time travel.  It had been an uphill battle at the best of times. It wasn’t supposed to feel as natural as breathing, and the fact that it did now had some unpleasant implications as to Varian’s remaining humanity, in his mind.

 

Rapunzel stared intently at the air where he stood, watching on as the song ended and he rematerialized in short order.

 

“Well?” he asked.

 

She cleared her throat and blinked back the last of the tears, face hardening.  “For starters, you have a lovely singing voice. Don’t put yourself down.”

 

“...That’s it?”

 

“Next up, I don’t think your powers do what you think they do.”

 

Varian blinked.  “...What? But… but I vanished.  You saw. You were right there.”

 

“I was,” Rapunzel said, nodding.  “And you didn’t disappear.”

 

“I did!”

 

“To your own eyes, maybe.  But to mine? No.”

 

“What, then I’ve been hallucinating having magic for a week and change?”

 

“Not at all.  That one lighter bit of hair definitely glowed when you sang, and I saw some kind of smoke or something cover you up.  You weren’t invisible, but I couldn’t quite see you, either.”

 

“But I could see right through my own body…” he grumbled, stealing Rapunzel’s abandoned chair and sitting at the desk like a civilized person.

 

Rapunzel stood up shakily and began pacing around the small room.  “I think it has something to do with my having the Sundrop’s power, in whatever concentration.  My own powers never worked on me. Maybe the same principle applies for other magic too? Maybe I’m just unusually resistant to the effects of magic in general.”

 

“Because your own cancels it out,” Varian muttered.  “Yeah, sounds plausible. So I should vanish fine around normal people?”

 

“In theory.”

 

Varian scowled.  “Look, I shouldn’t have to say it, but-”

 

“You have no intention of going public on this one.  Got it.”

 

“As long as you understand.”

 

Rapunzel laughed and it was the coldest sound Varian had ever heard from her.  “Oh, trust you me, I understand why you’re going to want to keep this secret. I understand all too well what people might do to you once they find out…”  Her voice trailed off, and her eyes got that scary dead look to them again.

 

Oh.

 

Oh, dear.

 

He’d put his foot in it a little bit, hadn’t he?

 

There wasn’t really a way to undo that, unfortunately.  May as well lean into it.

 

“I mean, I can’t revive the dead or give everlasting youth or heal injuries, though.  I doubt I’d be in high demand with this useless a power.”

 

Rapunzel shook her head.  “See, that’s where I’m getting hung up.  You said there was a time gap between when you woke up in the woods with lighter hair and when you first noticed your powers?”

 

“Yeah.  Decent chunk of time.”

 

“What happened in that time?”

 

Varian blinked in confusion and shrugged.  “Not much. Regular daily stuff.”

 

“Nobody mentioned your hair?”

 

And with that, Varian’s mouth locked.

 

They hadn’t.

 

Not a single soul had noticed, not even Quirin.

 

Surely, if anyone in the whole world would notice a boy’s sudden vibrant change in hair color, it would be the boy’s own father.

 

“...Come to think of it…”

 

“They didn’t, did they?”

 

“No.”  


Rapunzel emptied her lungs in a painful sigh.  “Thought as much. Varian, your powers aren’t invisibililty.  They’re illusion. You’ve been unconsciously activating them to hide irregularities all this time.  I can see your hair clearly because… I guess the illusion just doesn’t hold at lower levels. I can only detect a change when you force it further with the incantation.  You vanish because somewhere, deep down, you want to disappear.” She came to a stop in front of Varian, laid a hand on the desk, leaned in close to stare him deeply in the eye, unblinking.

 

“Varian… who are you hiding from?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry bout the delay; half the reason for the quick n dirty update schedule at the start was because i had fuck all to do at work, and then THE DELUGE began. also i had to train an intern in the many horrid ways of my office and then i ditched you all and went to nyc to see Hadestown live on broadway because i'm a woman of class and amber grey is a fucking icon
> 
> in other news, revolving bookshelves are surprisingly easy to buy and install if you have the extra hard cash lying around and own your own home. another thing the bourgeois hoard that should belong to the masses


	5. The Satisfaction of Correctly Calling a Rickroll

Varian could do little other than stare at the Crown Princess of Corona, mouth slightly agape.  What the fuck. What had she just said to him?

 

There wasn’t even anything he could say in response, no matter how badly he wanted to jump up from his seat and deny it categorically in as vicious a tone as he could muster.  It’d be as good as a confession. A confession to what, exactly, was a fair point to make. Rapunzel had no clue what Varian had done in the past/future, because this was a timeline where none of it happened.  She couldn’t understand why he’d take any kind of accusation of deception so badly.

 

So that left one option: what did Rapunzel want to hear?

 

Best thing was to play to her expectations and let that divert suspicion.  People always wanted their personal bias confirmed. Except Varian had no clue what Rapunzel wanted, as usual.  He met her eyes, and they were just... open. Clear. Devoid of judgment or speculation. She just waited patiently for him to get his shit together, which wasn’t going to happen anytime soon if the white noise filling Varian’s head was any indication.

 

“I’m... not hiding anything,” he squeaked out, and immediately wanted to bash his head into the table.

 

Rapunzel blinked.  “I didn’t say you were.  I asked if you were hiding from somebody.  Or something, I guess. Shouldn’t discount that possibility.”

 

“I mean, yeah, that too.”  Varian had no idea where he was supposed to look.  Not her face, that was for sure.

 

“Varian... are you okay?”

 

“Huh?”

 

She found the other chair and took her seat, hands clasping gently on the desk as she turned her whole body to face him.  “You just seem really jumpy and conflicted, and with all this on top... I guess I’m just worried. Did something bad happen at Old Corona?  Maybe something that triggered your...?” she gestured vaguely to his hair. Her voice lowered in spite of the fact that it was a soundproofed room to begin with.  “Nobody hurt you, did they?”

 

_You did._

 

Varian flinched and shook his head so hard his neck hurt.  “Look, I swear, nothing bad happened. I’m not hiding from anyone.  Okay, so maybe I didn’t want to freak Dad out with all the magic stuff!  It happens! Maybe I just panicked and didn’t want him to be also-panicking.  He’s already really stressed with the evacuations, and taking care of me, and then there’s the stuff with the storm, and- look, I don’t want to be the last nail in the coffin, okay?  I don’t want to be a problem.”

 

Rapunzel leaned forward and wrapped a hand around Varian’s.  She had to be able to feel how hard he was shaking. “Varian, you’re not a problem.  You could never be a problem.”

 

_Funny, cause the day I was born seemed to ruin a lot of things for everybody._

 

“But this... isn’t something I can just dump on Dad.  I don’t even feel right dumping it on you,” Varian muttered.

 

“We’re going to figure it out, okay?  You and me. I gotta admit, this is a new one for me, too, but... I’m glad you don’t have to go through this alone.  I’m really, _really_ happy you trusted me with this.  Swear on my whole life and then some, I won’t tell anyone unless you give me permission to do so.”

 

“Mm,” Varian hummed, not really looking at her.  Promises weren’t the Princess’s strong suit, but this one seemed low-stakes enough that she might actually mean it.

 

“So where do you want to start?”

 

“Start?”

 

Rapunzel nodded.  “I mean, did you want to research the Moondrop first?  Or try to control the stuff you already know it does? Or are you trying to suppress it altogether?  What’s on the to-do list?”

 

Oh jeez.  Varian had no clue, and said as much.

 

“Oh.”  She looked rather put out.

 

“I mean... I guess it might be useful to know how to manipulate the exact illusion I create?  Cause I am very much not doing the invisibility thing on purpose, and it’s kind of stupid, so if I can swap out that garbage ability for something else, that’d be cool.”

 

“You don’t have to concentrate or visualize anything to vanish?”

 

“No, not really.  I wasn’t paying attention at all the first time I did it.  I was writing up a manual on one of my inventions for Dad at the time, just humming to myself,” he said.

 

Rapunzel squinted and rubbed her chin.  “Huh. Weird. First time I can remember using my hair, I had to think about what I wanted to happen pretty hard.  Maybe baseline is just different for us?”

 

“But I thought your hair still worked when you were a baby, and that was the whole point of-?”  Varian bit his tongue. “Shit, sorry.”

 

Rapunzel grimaced, but nodded.  “...Gothel was able to use her own magic to wake mine up.  I didn’t have to concentrate, but she did. The visualization had to come from someplace, and baby me certainly wasn’t going to do it.”

 

“Cool.  So I-” Varian stopped dead mid-sentence.  “Hey, wait. You don’t think the same applies to me, do you?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“If somebody else can sing and do all the hard work to activate your hair independently of you, shouldn’t you be able to do the same for me?  You know, in theory?”

 

Rapunzel’s eyes grew wide.

 

Varian continued, gesticulating.  “Cause look, you get this whole Using Magic thing way better than I do.  I can teach you the incantation if you haven’t already picked it up, so maybe you’ll have better luck than I will?  And then maybe I can get a feel for what it’s like and what the limits are. We gotta get a mirror in here then, because you said you can’t see the effect of the illusion clearly, so I’m going to have to be the quality control here.  Do you think anyone will notice if we abduct a mirror from one of the guest room vanities?”

 

He continued down the rabbit hole of research possibilities, completely missing how Rapunzel sat back and little and smiled at him in a fond, sad way.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Varian had traipsed off back to town, claiming exhaustion and a need to feed Rudiger dinner.  Actually, dinner didn’t sound terrible to Rapunzel, either. The sun was all but gone, and the night chill was seeping in through the windows of the castle already.  It was well and truly winter.

 

If they had learned anything from the day’s experiments, it was that Varian’s magic _fought back._ Rapunzel was so used to her own, eager to please and simple to guide into the right forms and shapes.  Varian’s was contrary and temperamental. She smiled. Almost reminded her of someone.

 

Thing was, Varian himself didn’t have the slightest bit of control over it, either.  It wasn’t that it fought Rapunzel; it fought him, too. He’d mentioned offhandedly that he was rubbish at magic a few times.  That in and of itself was odd. Had he tried it before gaining Moondrop powers? How did that one work? It seemed obvious from his phrasing that he’d taken quite a few whacks at it over the years, but come up with little success.  It was more than Rapunzel had done, to be honest; she’d never known a life without the magic in her hair, constantly humming under her skin. She’d certainly never tried out spells that hadn’t been part and parcel of what she already knew she could do.

 

Maybe it was time to try?

 

But not tonight.  It was late, and she was hungry.

 

Hungry and finally feeling the emotional weight of the day hit her like a sack of bricks.

 

Cass came to meet her on the way to the dining hall, and noticed straightaway something was amiss.

 

“...Hey, Raps?  You look kinda dead on your feet.  You want me to grab you a plate and I can just bring it up to your room?”

 

Rapunzel offered a grateful smile.  “Are you sure nobody’s going to be offended if I don’t eat at the table with the nobility?”

 

“If they try it, I’ll give them something real to be offended about.”

 

That got a real chuckle out of Rapunzel.  “So what are the odds you could also grab a plate for Eugene?”

 

“Don’t push your luck,” Cass said flatly.

 

“You’re an angel, Cass.  I’m going to run up to my room, then.”

 

“All right.  Big plate or little plate?”

 

“Mmm... Medium?  Medium-small. Something with an ungodly amount of starch, if at all possible.”

 

“Please.  I know you by know.  Starch city, coming up.  Get your butt to bed, Raps,” Cass said with a smile, waving off her friend and employer as they parted ways down different halls.

 

Rapunzel barely saw the ground in front of her as she made her way up the stairs to her own chambers.

 

For all that Varian claimed to be no good with magic, he was learning quickly.  The first minor illusion Rapunzel had attempted to create was changing the color of Varian’s shirt to an offensively bright pink.  As Varian had said, the incantation was easy enough to pick up, but it was profoundly odd to have to hold onto the boy’s head in order for it to work.  At least with Rapunzel’s hair, Mother Gothel had only had to brush it, not get _that_ up close and personal.  Varian had slightly long hair for a boy, but nowhere near enough to make it less awkward to grip like reins.

 

It took about six tries for Rapunzel to shove back the shyness enough to concentrate properly on wrestling the magic into line.  As predicted, her own eyes revealed very little about the illusion she’d brought about, but Varian had confirmed with the help of a mirror that sure enough, his shirt was somewhat pink.  Nowhere close to the vibrancy she’d been going for, but close enough.

 

Varian had tried doing it on his own a few times, too, with variable success.  Getting it right one time didn’t seem to guarantee the next result, either. It was as though the magic itself was constantly trying to outmaneuver whoever was in charge, dodging out of the way and getting smarter as it went.

 

With how little they knew about the Moondrop, maybe that’s exactly what it was.

 

That settled it; they really needed to shift the focus more on research next time than on practical application.  Maybe the ancients had how-to guides hidden away somewhere that would save them all a headache and a half.

 

“Hey Blondie!  Skipping dinner?”

 

Rapunzel jumped and whirled around.  “Oh! Eugene! I, uh... no, Cass is bringing me up something.  I just...”

 

Eugene held up a hand.  “I think I get it. You look exhausted.  I didn’t see you all day; are you okay?”

 

She nodded and leaned over to half-hug his side.  “Yeah. A lot happened. I just want to stay in for the night, if that’s okay.”

 

“You need some time alone, or-?”

 

Rapunzel buried her face in his vest and breathed deep, wrestling a few thoughts into line.  “No. I want you here, if you haven’t got anything else going on.”

 

Warm hands came up to wrap around her shoulder and pet her hair.  “You got it. So long as I can steal a little off that plate Cass is bringing you.”

 

“A fair exchange,” Rapunzel said with a smile.

 

Her room was just around the corner, and they slipped in after checking quickly to be sure no gossipy guards were in the line of sight.  There was probably something scandalous about an unmarried royal couple skipping dinner to steal away into a bedroom, not that anyone with a brain would dare think Eugene anything less than the stuttering awkward gentleman he was.  There were times Rapunzel thought a proper scandal would do them both good.

 

She wasted no time trudging forward and face-planting on her huge mattress with a groan.

 

“That tired, huh?” Eugene asked.  He was trying to keep the concern out of his voice and failing miserably, the dearheart.

 

Rapunzel considered it.  “...Maybe?”

 

“You don’t know?”

 

“It’s more that I’m not sure what part tired me out.”  Except that wasn’t quite true.

 

There was one big thing she’d been trying to push out of her mind ever since Varian had told her.  She’d been able to focus more or less on other things afterwards, things that took all her concentration, but now there was nothing to distract from the looming truth in front of her.

 

It hurt.

 

It hurt so much.

 

She had never considered the possibility, right up until it smacked her in the face, and by then it was too late to stop it.

 

She never should have gotten her hopes up.

 

Eugene noticed before she did that she had started crying softly into the comforter, and scooped her up in his arms with quiet shooshing sounds.

 

“It’s okay.  Shh, it’s okay, I’m here.  You’re all right.”

 

“I know,” she mumbled, tongue feeling thick.  “I know, I just...” She made a fist and punched the mattress as hard as she could.  It was far less satisfying than she’d hoped. “I don’t know what I thought.”

 

“Is it something you can talk to me about?”

 

She shook her head.  “I already promised. I mean, I can’t tell you who’s involved, but...”  She curled into a ball and just let herself be held. “...I thought I was the only one.”

 

Eugene had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

 

“Is it bad if you’re not?”

 

She shrugged helplessly.  “Maybe? It could be? I don’t know.  But I know that it felt like I had everything under control back when it was just me, and now nothing’s under control and I thought I had a chance, just one godforsaken _chance-_ ”

 

“Rapunzel, you’re shaking.”

 

“I know!” she said. “...I know.”

 

Eugene cleared his throat awkwardly.  “Does, uh... this other person? Do they know?  That you’re like them.”

 

“I don’t think he really understands the whole thing yet, but I’d be surprised if it took him very long to figure it out.”

 

“Look, I don’t know about you, but for me, being alone... doesn’t sound very good.  I know I’ve said a bunch of times that I’d love to spend a week on a tropical island solo, but that was a lot of grandstanding.  I’ve been by myself a bunch over the years, and it sucks across the board. Just because being alone was familiar didn’t mean it was better, you know?”  He leaned back, pulling Rapunzel with him into a more comfortable position. “Maybe this friend of yours needs your experiences to guide him. Maybe he thought he was alone, too, and is happy now that he isn’t.”

 

Rapunzel blinked some of the tears from her eyes, considering it.

 

Maybe.

 

But then again, maybe not.

 

Varian had asked her for help, and she hadn’t had much help to offer.  But she wanted to. So badly, she wanted to.

 

There had to be something more she could do to fix this.  More of her to give.

 

Big decisions needed to be made, and soon.

 

A knock at the door a few minutes later revealed a lone cart carrying two plates, one full of creamy noodles with a side of vegetables and garlic bread, and the other full of foods Eugene hated.  Cass was a real angel sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i know it's short and i keep forgetting The Animal Friends but fuck it, next chapter is slated to be a humdinger and it really needs to be its own separate entity, alas


	6. Joke's Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If disaster's on your doorstep, there's something to be said for locking the door.

 

Was it petty that Varian kept inventing fake excuses to avoid hanging out with Rapunzel?  Probably. Did he do it anyway? One hundred percent.

 

It wasn’t totally an avoidance mechanism.  Varian really did have other things to do apart from dicking around with garbage magic and trying to ‘grow as a person’ or whatever the kids were calling it these days.  The storm was all but on their doorstep already, and Varian knew he wasn’t the only one keeping an eye glued to the horizon for any sign of mountainous looming clouds, even if he remembered all too well how the storm had popped up out of nowhere.

 

What was going to be the biggest pain was the fact that Varian had no earthly clue what had been going on with all of that.  At the time, he’d been so preoccupied with his own bullshit and subsequent mental breakdown that he’d paid very little attention to the gossip of how the storm started, and how it was brought to an end.  He’d assumed it was just a freak storm at first, right up until he’d heard passerby say the princess in Corona had done something to save them all. He’d been both bitter (how come  _ they  _ get saved?) and skeptical (of all the powers Rapunzel had to her credit, weather control wasn’t one of them), and had dismissed the whole thing out of hand.

 

But… if there were a grain of truth to it, a lot would start to make sense.

 

He’d wondered for years why Rapunzel thought she had to be present for the evacuation of the capital when everything was already underway.  By all rights, all the decisions had been made and there was nothing left for her to do. So why had she even hesitated, let alone refused to come with him?  Well, if the rumors were to be believed, she went on some crazy expedition chasing a legend, blah blah blah, something-or-other, and then tada! the kingdom was saved.  She’d stayed because there  _ was  _ still something left to do, and that something was literally a matter of life and death.

 

Okay, so that much made sense.

 

What made less sense was the mass of conflicting accounts surrounding the issue.  How deeply inconvenient it was to be in the past where nobody remembered the future enough to give Varian some spoilers.  He couldn’t risk asking anything about it at all, lest someone think he was into witchcraft or whatever and summoned a demon storm (that sort of misconception happened often enough as it was).

 

Which wasn’t to say that nothing could be done until after the fact.

 

Varian recalled multiple accounts of Xavier being a good hand with herbalism and basic pharmaceutical skills, so three days before the storm was due to hit, he asked one afternoon if they could drop by a local herbalist to… pick up a few things.

 

“Oh?” Xavier asked, surprised.  “Given how much you packed with you, I didn’t think you’d want for anything.”

 

Varian fidgeted.  “I need a lot of stuff.  More than I could bring with me.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“An ungodly amount of bicarb and distilled vinegar.”

 

Xavier scratched at his head.  “...How much constitutes ‘an ungodly amount’?  And what on earth do you need it for?”

 

“For now, I think I’ll need fifty gallons of vinegar and eleven pounds of bicarb,” Varian said.

 

Xavier choked on his tea.

 

“Look, you know that big storm coming?”

 

Xavier nodded, coughing noisily to clear his lungs.

 

“Well, Crystal Field Theory goes into how crystalline structures are actually lower in subatomic conformation energy than free-floating molecules, and for sodium acetate the difference in energy is to the point that any disturbance of a supersaturated solution causes spontaneous crystallization which produces an exothermic-”

 

“I believe I understood three of the words you said, and nothing in between,” Xavier said.

 

Varian flushed.  “Basically, I can make cloth hot packs.  When the storm comes, I’m willing to bet there are going to be people struggling to keep their body temperature up.  Little kids and babies. Family pets. The elderly. Unless we want mass deaths from hypothermia if anything goes wrong, it might not be the worst plan to have some on hand.”

 

Xavier stared at him.  “You can just… make a cloth bag that heats up on its own?”

 

“With bicarb and vinegar, yes.  And, uh, the cloth. Going to need the cloth,” Varian said.  “And as many stock pots as you’ve got hanging around because I gotta boil all that vinegar and it’s going to take a long time.  It’s also probably going to stink pretty bad, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

“You think the storm will be that bad?” Xavier asked.

 

Time for lying.  “No, but better I waste my time now than watch people die later because I felt like slacking.”

 

A shadowed expression flickered across the man’s face as his gaze dropped to the floor.  It felt familiar somehow. Like Varian had seen that same expression on the faces of every adult he’d spoken to recently.  But Xavier’s gaze found its way back up and his shoulders were squared as he stood. “Very well. We can pick up what you need today.  The apothecary will have the bicarb, but I suspect the market will be a better source of the vinegar. We may have to consult multiple vendors for the quantities you need.  Would you find an immediate expedition amenable?”

 

Varian nodded with a blooming smile.  Time to set his plans in motion with a trusty blacksmith accomplice.

 

* * *

 

Rapunzel was tense.  Her parents had left for their anniversary trip early in the morning, and she’d waved them off with her biggest smile, but it hadn’t taken long for the anxiety to creep back in.  She just had to keep telling herself over and over that she was going to be fine. She was prepared for this. She was born into a royal family, and surely that came with some baseline of governing competence, right?  They didn’t just plop any old idiot on a throne and hope for the best, right?

 

Oh no.  She was the Any Old Idiot plopped on the throne.

 

A random barefoot painter they scooped out of a tower in the woods, and now she had to puzzle out the kingdom’s tax code and calculate an irate subject’s correct withholdings (did a pen full of pigs count as dependents for the standard deduction? Probably not, but boy did Farmer Hodgekiss make a solid argument in favor).  And to make matters worse, there was that nasty-looking storm rumored to be on its way.

 

They were all doomed, huh?

 

She’d never admit it, but she was a little grateful that Varian hadn’t come to call in the last few days.  There was too much to do, too much to review, too much catching up as much as she could before the weight of responsibility outright suplexed her into the dirt.

 

Or into the snow, as it happened.

 

“Eugene!  Eugene, it’s here!”

 

“Calm down, Blondie, what do you- oh.  Oh, hey! It really did start snowing, huh?”  Eugene reached a hand out of the open window, catching an errant snowflake on a fingertip before it melted away.  He turned to her with a grin, then shot Cass a look of pure mischief. “Wanna have a snowball fight as soon as there’s enough of it on the ground?”

 

“Oh, you’re on, Ryder.  I will wipe the floor with you,” Cass said.

 

“Please.  I could wipe the floor with  _ both  _ of you,” Rapunzel said, nodding seriously.  “But I won’t because I care about you both too much to hurt your pride like that.”

 

“Uh-huh.  Sure.”

 

A thought occurred and Rapunzel gasped.  “Oh! Pascal!” She reached up under her left ear, retrieving the little lizard.  He looked up at her with those big, mournful eyes, lethargy clear in every scale. “We’ve got to get you some winter wear, partner!  Last I checked, you were still cold-blooded.” Pascal nodded and tried to burrow closer to Rapunzel’s warm hand. “Don’t you worry. We’ll get you bundled up in no time.”

 

“May want to grab some winter clothing for yourself, too,” Cass said.  “You’re not exactly dressed for the weather if you really did want to go out.”

 

“Gotcha.  See you outside?”

 

“You bet.”

 

“And then we can see who shall be wiping floors with whom, yes?”

 

“Loser has to  _ actually  _ wipe down the floors.”

 

“Oh, brilliant.  Absolutely.”

 

* * *

 

The first flake of snow sent Varian’s already-fragile nerves into overdrive.

 

He’d spent every free moment crafting heat packs and storing them as safely as he could, so it wasn’t like he could be any more prepared than he already was.  Even so, he’d only had enough material and time for about a hundred of them, and the capital city had tens of thousands of people. It wasn’t enough. It never could have been enough.  In the future that wouldn’t be, what had the body count been? Varian wasn’t stupid enough to believe that the princess managed to fix everything before any real harm occurred. There had to have been casualties.  From what he’d heard, the King and Queen had very nearly been killed themselves. They had left earlier that morning, judging from the hubbub outside Xavier’s forge. Varian hadn’t felt the need to warn them of the impending danger.  They got to make it back alive to their child even without his interference the first time; they’d just have to suck it up and do it again.

 

Besides, he could imagine how that conversation would have gone.

 

_ “Please, Your Majesties, don’t go on this trip!  Yeah, the sky is clear right now and all, but you’ll surely fall off a cliff and die in the middle of nowhere where no one can find your lifeless frozen corpses!” _

 

_ “Is that a threat?  Guards!” _

 

Yeah.  Hard pass.  Ol’ Freddy and Ari would have to take their chances like the rest of humanity.

 

“My, my.  It’s coming down a bit harder than I expected this early in the day,” Xavier said, coming up behind Varian.

 

“Yeah,” he said.

 

“If you see any passerby about to enter the forge without proper protective wear, shoo them away.  I don’t need anyone catching fire trying to warm up.” Xavier grinned. “Although I admit, it’s nice that we suddenly become the most popular spot in town the instant it’s cold out.”

 

“I thought today was cast iron day.  There shouldn’t be sparks flying everywhere, right?”

 

“Yes, but the last thing I need is someone startling me while I’m trying to pour molten iron.”

 

Varian winced.  “Reasonable.”

 

“Once I’m finished with these dutch ovens, I think I’ll shut the place down for the rest of the day.  It’s going to take too much fuel to keep the fires going in this cold, even if we somehow manage a miracle and keep all the wood dry,” Xavier said.  “That, and boys like you should get out there and play a bit while you’re still young - and while you don’t need a chiropractor. The snow will let up at some point, and it would be nice if you had a chance to play before it does.”

 

“...Are you sure it’ll stop?” Varian asked, almost too quietly to hear.

 

Xavier stopped in his tracks, letting the words process.  “The snow always stops.”

 

“I mean, yeah, but…”

 

“Something tells me you’re familiar with the tale of Lord Demanitus.”

 

“Huh?  Lord Demon-itis?”

 

“No?” Xavier looked surprised.  “Hm. Interesting. Well, at any rate, there are a number of old legends about the man.  Centuries past, a great monstrous entity, a warlock named Zhan Tiri, swore revenge on the people of Corona, and used his mighty powers to call forth a storm of ice and snow.  It was a devastating thing, and destroyed all it its path as it headed straight for the capital.”

 

Varian’s eyes grew wide as Xavier earned his full attention.  This… almost sounded familiar. Maybe he  _ had  _ heard of it before?

 

“But Lord Demanitus, caretaker of Corona, knew of both magic and science, and combined the powers of both to create a device that he used to reverse the storm.  Zhan Tiri’s revenge went unfulfilled, and the people of Corona survived, thanks to him.”

 

Varian swallowed.  “So… what would have happened if he’d never done anything?”

 

“Nobody knows,” Xavier said with a shrug.  “But more than likely, everyone would have frozen to death.  The storm of legend was designed to set up shop and stay. Supernatural storms don’t just come and go like normal ones, you know.”

 

“And nobody ever found this Zhan Tiri guy and stopped him for good?”

 

“No.  Mind you, it’s a very old legend.  How much is true and how much is embellishment is up to the listener.  Though we do have detailed historical records and firsthand accounts about a terrible winter storm and the extensive property damage that resulted hundreds of years ago, so at least some of it is verifiable.”

 

Varian nodded along.  It was obvious enough that some parts had to be bunk.  But… a device using both magic and science to change the weather?  Varian himself had accidentally managed to create a localized tornado with a simple machine.  It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that one could do something on a larger scale on purpose.

 

If there were some way to disrupt the airflow at the eye of the storm, or change air pressure to disperse the clouds, that might do the trick.  But it would require something absolutely, unbelievably massive to accomplish that. The storm above their heads had clouds miles across. Any machine designed get rid of them would have to have horsepower enough to move literal tons of suspended water.

 

There simply was no engine strong enough.

 

But the part where magic was involved… that was food for thought.  It might replace the need for conventional fuels, just as Varian had banked on when he made the time machine.  It might also provide a compression factor to the force exerted by the machine itself, concentrating the blast for better aim and dispersion.  That would require a little more technical know-how and exertion than Varian’s slapdash plug-and-play method.

 

Still, the machine would have to be huge, and Varian had never seen such a thing just hanging out in the middle of the city square.  He’d traipsed all through the Corona underground tunnel system, too. Nada. Surely, if the thing were real and hadn’t been deconstructed, he’d have found it by now, right?

 

Or.  Best case scenario, there might be blueprints somewhere.  A machine of that size would need technicians with knowledge of and access to the innermost mechanisms.

 

Varian needed access to the royal archives.  It was the closest thing he had to a plan.

 

“You know, Xavier?  I think you’re right.  I  _ should  _ dork around while I’m still young.  Haven’t seen Rapunzel in days. Think I might-”

 

“Run off to look into the royal archives?”  Xavier raised one bushy eyebrow, knowing smile on his face.

 

Varian spluttered.  “Okay, you’re starting to know me too well and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

 

* * *

 

“Citizens of Corona!” Rapunzel shouted over the ramparts, “In my capacity as Princess Regent of Corona, I officially declare today a Snow Day!  All nonessential staff, take today as a paid vacation, and remember everyone: bundle up and keep warm! Safety first!” She waved her arms excitedly and watched the scores of people below cheer with her.  A few wasted no time pelting each other with snowballs and it promised to be a bloodbath.

 

She leapt down the steps, taking them two at a time.  “Cass, I’m eighty-five percent certain this won’t blow up in my face.”

 

“Still another fifteen percent chance it will, though?”

 

“Aww, come on!  We’ve only got so long we can play around, right?  We’re working on a time budget, here. Which means…” Rapunzel swiped a mittened hand along the stairway railing, balled up the snow she found there, and chucked it at Cassandra’s head faster than eyes could follow.  Cassandra hadn’t needed eyes to see it coming and dodged without a blink.

 

“Time budget, huh?  Is there some kind of event still going on?”

 

Rapunzel faltered.  “No, but it’s going to get dark in a bit, right?  We’ve only got a few hours before the sun starts to set, and I’m pretty sure even  _ I’d _ be courting frostbite by then, magic sun powers or no.”

 

Cassandra grinned and held open the door back into the palace hallways.  “You know the snow will still be here in the morning, right? We can head on in and dork around tomorrow.  I’m feeling pretty good about what I’ve accomplished today, namely, demolishing your boyfriend in a vicious onslaught.  Sorry ‘bout that, by the way, except I am not sorry and he quite literally was asking for it.”

 

Rapunzel rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the crick there.  “Unfortunately, tomorrow I’ll think we might have…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes hooked on a figure just beyond the glass panes of the windows, a raccoon trailing behind.  “Hey, is that-?”

 

“Varian?  Looks to be.  Did you invite him up here?”

 

Rapunzel shrugged.  “I left an open-ended invitation a while ago, but he hadn’t taken me up on it.”  She whirled around, eyes sparkling. “You don’t think he’s on an adventure, do you?”

 

“Up to mischief, maybe,” Cassandra said.

 

“Mischief is a good substitute in a pinch.”

 

“Fine, but don’t come crying to me when there’s a hole blown in the guest wing walls in the middle of a blizzard.”

 

A brief flicker of panic flashed across Rapunzel’s face before she blinked and it was gone.  “I’m pretty sure there’s a limit to how much damage he can do with just himself and a raccoon.  He doesn’t have any big machines with him or anything, and that’s where he runs into trouble.”

 

“You might be underestimating his potential.”

 

“Oh, I know more about his potential than most,” Rapunzel said with a wink.

 

Cassandra just followed behind, confused at the whole mess.

 

“I think he’s- oh, yup, that makes sense.  The library,” Rapunzel said.

 

“Don’t tell me we’re going to go spend a snow day in a library,” Cassandra said.

 

Rapunzel shrugged.  “I mean, five seconds ago you mentioned wanting to stay indoors for the rest of today, right?”

 

“Yeah, but I meant in terms of cuddling up to a fireplace with a blanket and the world’s biggest bowl of soup and maybe playing a board game or something.  Half the fun of snow days is watching other people outside be miserable while you’re having the time of your life in the lap of comfort. There’s definitely something to be said for a good book, but that doesn’t mean I want to sit in a dusty library and listen to a teenager rant about isotopes or whatever the hell they are for two hours.”

 

“I see what you did there.”

 

“Huh?”   
  


“Ice-otopes.”

 

“ _ Rapunzel.” _

 

She giggled.  “Your face. I’m sorry, but your face is great.  Listen, I’m loving the board games idea. Eugene would probably be, uh… on  _ board _ , too.”

 

“Need you to stop that.  But… eh, I wouldn’t mind annihilating him a second time today.  It’s an easy job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” Cassandra said.

 

“If you want to grab stuff and set up someplace, I can catch up.  I just want to check in on Varian first, and then I’ll swing by. I’m trusting you to pick a game I actually know how to play!” Rapunzel called behind her, already speeding off.

 

Cassandra winced.  If anyone had doubts about how bored a young Rapunzel must have been while confined in a tower, her absolute ruthlessness in card- and board game strategy would have assuaged them.

 

* * *

 

The archives weren’t that far from the library itself, and a hallway connected the two.  They were also considerably less elegant. The archives generally contained boring information and statistics, like tax collection records, census breakdowns, preserved copies of notable newspapers, and endless dry law texts that nobody consulted because most of the old laws had since been overturned or rewritten.

 

But here and there, some gold could be struck.

 

Varian hadn’t really expected the announcement of a snow day, and while at first he’d been delighted at the lowered security calming his nerves, the realization that the archivist had also taken the day off was a blow to the kneecaps.  There was too much to search through with no guide.

 

“Demanitus… Demanitus… You know, Rud, it probably would have helped if I’d done something crazy like ask when he was alive, or how to spell his frickin’ name per-maybe-haps,” he muttered, pawing through obituary records.  Rudiger chirped encouragement. “Come on, the old coot had to have died some time. And he was a Lord or something, right? So his death announcement would’ve been actual news. Does the newspaper not report the deaths of nobility anymore?  Is it in a damn gossip column? You can’t tell me there’s been a time when humanity hasn’t been interested in celebrity drama.”

 

Perhaps it was better the archivist wasn’t there.  Varian would have chewed their ear off for the disarray he was battling now.  While similar documents were grouped together in cabinets and drawers, nothing was in any order, be it chronological or alphabetical.  Notices from three hundred years ago were thrown in with ones from the week prior. Unprofessional, to say the least.

 

The door to the archives creaked, and Varian dove behind a desk purely out of habit.

 

“Hello?  Anyone in h- oh!  Hello, Rudiger!”

 

Varian could have slapped himself.  Of course it was Rapunzel, and of course he’d forgotten the raccoon.  The raccoon who was getting pets and scritches aplenty from the heir to the throne.  So much for secrecy.

 

“Hey!” he said, popping up from behind the desk.  “Hiya, Rapunzel. Uh, didn’t expect to see you… in the archives… what with the whole, uh, snow day thing, I guess.  Just sorta poking around? It’s cool, right?”

 

Rapunzel beamed.  “I had a feeling it was you I saw run by.  What’s mine is yours and all that. So what were you looking for?  You looked like a man on a mission last I saw. Maybe I can help?”   
  


He was going to regret this, but the only way to get rid of Rapunzel was to give her exactly what she wanted.  “Actually, I was hoping to find any records kept by Lord Demanitus. The legendary engineer, you know?” Varian said.

 

To his surprise, she gasped in recognition.  “Oh! Oh, I know who that is. Well,  _ was.  _  Sort of is?  It’s complicated; he was a weird guy.”

 

“So you know where I can find his things?”

 

Rapunzel winced.  “Don’t know that I’d go that far.  I haven’t gone through much of the archives.  I tried helping the archivist organize things once and only got through one box of royal health records before falling asleep.  There’s boredom and then there’s torture.”

 

Varian’s face fell.  “You’re kidding.”

 

“I’m sorry.  But I’m pretty sure most of the records on nobles’ death announcements include supporting documents on their last wills and testaments.  If we can find his obituary, there should be a note about where all his stuff went. If memory serves, he didn’t have family, so there was no next of kin to take possession.  Must have been given over to the state for storage, and maybe a reference number’s included,” Rapunzel said.

 

“So I’m back to rooting through the big book of dead people.”

 

“I can help!  Can’t be that big, right?  I mean, how often is it that people die?”

 

“You’d be surprised.  Child mortality is through the roof.  A lot of this is depressing to look through,” Varian said.

 

“I’ll be okay,” she said, pulling up a chair next to the cabinet Varian had had open.  “Which ones did you already go through?” Varian pointed, and watched with some discomfort as she got started with no complaints.

 

“Hey, Varian?  Cass is setting up some board games and I think she said something about fireplaces and blankets and hot soup.  You wanna join once we’re done looking through all this? I have a feeling you could give me a run for my money in backgammon.  Or canasta.”

 

Varian raised an eyebrow and took his own seat, approaching the stacks from the opposite end.  “Why do I feel like I’d regret saying yes?”

 

“I mean, I’ll definitely beat you into the dirt either way, but I want you to make me work for it,” she said.

 

“Pride before the fall.”

 

“It’s winter, so I have a bit of a wait.”

 

“ _ Rapunzel.” _

 

“This is the second time I’ve made somebody upset with puns today.  I’m on a roll.”

 

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” Varian said, shaking his head and bothering to concentrate on his task.

 

Old person, old person, older person.  Oh! Middle aged woman, died of an undetected heart defect.  Another five old people. Another middle aged person, this one dying of tooth decay, of all things.  Yeah, that tracked. Varian couldn’t believe how long people had managed to go without brushing and flossing.  Of course toothpaste tasted awful, but considering the deadly alternative, it was worth it. His hands caught on a document, and it took his mind a few moments to catch up.

 

“...Rapunzel?”

 

“Did you find…?”  Rapunzel’s voice trailed away as she saw what he was holding.

 

An artist’s depiction of a beautiful baby girl seemed almost fresh on the page.  Golden hair and emerald eyes and the chubbiest cheeks, faithfully rendered there on the page, startlingly belied by the harsh words printed underneath.

 

It was the notice of Rapunzel’s own kidnapping.

 

And it was in with the obituaries.

 

They were silent a few moments, crushed under the weight of a single piece of paper.

 

Rapunzel swallowed thickly and spoke.  “I… I didn’t realize they kept such… recent documents.”

 

“...We should probably set this aside,” Varian said.  “There’s a lot of stuff around here that’s been filed in the wrong place.  I’m sure it was just an accident.”

 

“Yeah.  Had to be.”

 

A vague sickness took up residence in Varian’s gut.

 

“So, uh, you mentioned soup and backgammon?  I don’t think I’ve ever played that one before.  What are the rules?”

 

Rapunzel let the world’s smallest smile slip and nudged his leg with a knee.  “Well, it might be kind of hard to explain if you can’t see the board…”

 

As she rambled on, Varian could only breathe a sigh of relief.  Her voice hurt a lot less than the silence did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bugger all happened here, and that's why the whole chapter was like pulling teeth. big oof. in other news, guess who is - gasp - actually watching the series now that i have seen a couple gifs of season three spoilers??? not that i'll be any more beholden to reality than i was the first time around


	7. lonk boi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has come to my attention that the canonical spelling of the raccoon's name is "Ruddiger" with two Ds but I think it looks dumb and I am too lazy to change all the one D Rudigers. Whatever hill is stupidest to die on is the one I will pick, and this one's it.

“Varian, I need you to get your nose out of that book and play me at backgammon.  This is the third time I’ve lost to a frog and while I’m aware I will also lose to you, at least I’ll feel better about it,” Eugene said.

 

Pascal simply stuck out his tongue.

 

Varian wasn’t even paying attention.  Somehow, against all odds, he’d found some honest-to-goodness blueprints and documents pertaining to Demanitus’s contraption not through sane means, but by sheer dumb luck.  He’d tried to climb over a stack of boxes to get to a bathroom and tripped over them. They’d turned out to be infrastructural documents, and out poured blueprints for two dams, a bridge, and the single most elaborate wind turbine Varian had seen in his longer-than-expected-but-still-admittedly-short life.

 

He’d be embarrassed about the whole affair if he weren’t so fascinated.

 

“Varian?  Earth to Varian?”   
  


“Huh?  I missed it.  What’s going on?” he asked.

 

“Okay, color me curious.  What’s even in there?”

 

“Don’t get him going,” Cassandra muttered.

 

Varian turned the manuscript around to show one of the more detailed diagrams to Eugene.

 

“Woah.  I have no idea what I’m looking at,” Eugene said.

 

“Yeah.  Here’s my problem: neither do I,” Varian said.  “I mean, some parts are obvious, like the pistons over here going off in sequence to make it turn.  But where’s the fuel line? How does this thing get going? Where’s any kind of input valve? I know what it’s supposed to do, but I have no idea how it gets from point A to point B with this.  I thought these notes were going to mention more of the… I don’t know, the magicky crap.” Varian flipped through the pages, of which there really weren’t that many. “But zilch. Coming up empty.  This reads like a maintenance guide, not a fleshed-out blueprint. Like, yeah, we get it: bronze has to be kept clean. Go figure. Oh, and look at the scale bar in the bottom here.”

 

Rapunzel leaned over, holding her playing cards face-down so Cassandra couldn’t cheat.  “Okay, so maybe the machine is the size of the town square quadrupled. Sounds reasonable to me.”

 

“You guys ever seen something that looks like this?  Cass?” Varian asked.

 

Cassandra shook her head.  “Yeah, that’s a no. I think I’d remember having laid eyes on something that enormous.  It’d block out the sky.”

 

“And you’ve lived in Corona your whole life, or thereabouts.”

 

“Eh, thereabouts.  Used to live out in the woods in the middle of nowhere, but I was, like, four.”

 

“There it is.  So where are they keeping this thing?”  Varian shuffled to the last page. “It includes a real-life maintenance log including names of workers.  It exists. It’s real. So where’d they  _ put  _ the stupid thing?”

 

“Probably under the castle,” Eugene said.

 

They turned to look at him.

 

“What?” Eugene asked.  “Every time royalty creates something powerful they want to keep hushed up, they hide it in the one place they can keep an eye on it.  Treasure, damning evidence against them, giant machines that defy the laws of nature, you name it. Makes for an easy access point when you’re robbing them.”

 

Varian shook his head.  “I’ve seen some of the networking under the castle and I don’t remember seeing this machine down there.”

 

“You’ve been down there?  When was this?” Rapunzel asked.

 

Luckily, Varian didn’t even have to lie about it.  “While ago, when Dad took me here the first few times.  How do you think I got the idea to have water heaters in the tunnels under Old Corona?  It ended up going wrong, sure, but I don’t think it was  _ that  _ misguided an idea.”

 

“I do like a hot bath,” Eugene said.  “You get used to washing in icy streams and having fish swim right up your sensiti-”

 

“Please tell me you’re not thinking of trying to build that thing,” Cassandra said, gesturing at the blueprints.

 

“Not on your life.  Where would I even get the materials?”

 

Rapunzel shuffled her cards around in her hand, studying them.  “What if it wasn’t placed with its importance in mind? What if the goal was efficacy?”

 

“...Huh?”

 

“Well, think about it.  The machine is supposed to do something, right?  Where’s the location where it could do that best?”

 

A harsh wind slammed up against the windows of the great hall, rattling them high in their casements.  Night was falling, and even with a good blaze going in the fireplace, cold still traced thin fingers up the back of Varian’s neck.  If the machine had been placed to deal with the worst of the winds of the storm…

 

“This isn’t the original castle,” he muttered.

 

“Come again?”

 

“Corona has a long history, and the castle didn’t used to be right in this spot.  The old one got destroyed, so they had to rebuild here. That’s part of why they bothered to build the underground network in the first place, right?  Evacuation routes? Because they knew to anticipate disaster, and they knew what their biggest liability had been the last time around.”

 

“I don’t get what’s so important about some centuries-old machine that wouldn’t work even if you found it,” Cassandra said.  “The last dates listed on that maintenance form are from so long ago, it’s probably dust, wherever it is.”

 

“Hang on a second, do you guys hear that?” Eugene said, prying himself up from the nest of cushions they’d made on the floor by the hearth.

 

“Hear what?” Rapunzel asked, but Varian could just barely make out the distant tromp of guard boots.

 

Cassandra must have heard it too.  “I’ll handle it. Keep your seat, Ryder.”  She barely made it to the doors before one of them crashed open, a messenger heaving air accompanied by Stan and Pete.

 

The messenger began to babble.  “Your Highness, please-! There’s a-”

 

“There’s a protocol is what there is.  Stan? Pete? Status,” Cassandra said.

 

Both looked uncharacteristically grim.  Stan cleared his throat. “It’s the storm.  The outlying districts are seeing real damage.  It’s not good.”

 

Rapunzel was somehow on her feet and offering the messenger a glass of water before anyone could stop her, and the man gratefully took it.

 

“First things first, do we have numbers on casualties?” she asked.

 

The messenger wiped his mouth and tried to stand straighter.  “Nobody’s hurt yet, Your Highness. The only buildings that are coming down so far are some of the older outer buildings like sheds and barns nobody’s been using.  But some of the residential buildings are losing thatching and shingles faster than is good for the nerves. The wind’s picking up and we can’t hold out like this forever.”

 

Varian clenched the blueprints to his chest.  No. No, it couldn’t be happening this quickly.  He didn’t have the time he needed.

 

“Stan, get me the Chamberlain.  Pete, find Nigel wherever he is and drag him here.  I don’t care what he’s doing or how busy he is. Now,” Rapunzel said.

 

Both saluted and ran like hell in opposite directions.

 

“Cass, I’m going to need you to help with the evacuation process.”

 

“Evacuation?” Cassandra said.

 

“Are you thinking of bringing the outlying lands’ residents here?  Look Blondie, I’m not sure the castle has that kind of-”

 

“I’m not evacuating them here.”

 

“The mainland,” Varian muttered.

 

Eugene gave him an incredulous look.  “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s just a little wind.  There’s no need to evacuate as far away as the mainland.”

 

“No, he’s right,” Rapunzel said.  “I let the Chamberlain know ahead of time that he’d need to prepare just in case we had to evacuate the capital.  He’s been amassing blankets, gloves, food… I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but no sense in not being prepared for every outcome.”

 

“I… I mean, this seems like the kind of thing that might incite panic,” Eugene said.

 

“What’s going to incite panic is the fact that the worst of the storm seems to have hit…” Rapunzel’s voice trailed off and her throat worked as she swallowed.  She glanced at the messenger, who nodded and excused himself at speed.

 

The realization hit Eugene like a brick wall.  “Your parents. They were just beyond the farmlands to the north where it hit.”

 

“They’re on the mountain, Eugene.  If anything were to happen, I don’t know how they’d get word to us that they need help, or that they’re okay, or anything in between.  If the people think we don’t have everything under control, and heaven forbid my parents-”

 

“I’m on it.  Trust me, I am on the case.  You worry about what’s happening here and don’t let yourself get distracted.  See you when I get back,” Eugene said.

 

“Eugene-!” Rapunzel didn’t actually get a word in edgewise before the flurry that was her boyfriend dashed out of the room on his own mission.

 

“I still think you’re overreacting, Raps.  If we evacuate people, they’re either going to think you’re paranoid and crazy, or that something much worse is coming to kill us all,” Cassandra said.

 

“I’m pretty sure something much worse  _ is _ coming to kill us all, if it makes you feel any better,” Varian said.

 

Cassandra stared at him a moment.  “Funnily enough, it doesn’t.”

 

“Yeah, I’m not feeling that good about it, either.”

 

“Varian, I think you already have some idea of what I need you to do,” Rapunzel said quietly.  He followed the path her eyes traced to the manuscript he held in his arms.

 

Oh, no.  No, he didn’t have the fucking  _ time  _ to-

 

“I don’t think I can manage this by myself,” he said.  His voice came out as a whisper.

 

Rapunzel laid a hand on his shoulder.  “Who said anything about being by yourself?”  She winked just as the doors burst open and a frazzled Nigel and Chamberlain Potts stumbled through, wondering what all the fuss was about.

 

She turned and began to issue rapid-fire orders while Varian’s head spun behind her.

 

This didn’t seem right.  Wasn’t natural. He could remember these halls on this night, just a few hours in the future, in a past that wasn’t real anymore.

 

In this timeline, the evacuation orders were still underway.  Nigel was still spearheading them. Eugene was still on Monarch Recovery Duty.  But Cassandra was right; a few damaged barns with no injuries to speak of was hardly grounds for a mass exodus to the mainland, which had few guarantees of being all that much safer.  The thing about islands was that the winds that determined their weather always crossed water to be there. Water that had a ridiculously high heat capacity and would therefore make the climate more temperate.  Mainland weather was guaranteed to be just a little rougher, a little colder. It would be insane to suggest such a thing, unless-

 

Unless she already knew it wasn’t a natural storm, and that the bridge connecting them to the mainland was ripe for destruction, turning Corona into a magical death trap.

 

Shit, that was exactly what it was.

 

It must have traced back to how Rapunzel knew to seek out Demanitus’s contraption the first time around.  She’d had advanced warning that such a thing was possible, and took the necessary precautions to avert disaster when it came to call.  Admittedly, it was also insane to put stock in a centuries-old fairy tale, but Rapunzel’s existence itself was a centuries-old fairy tale and that hadn’t really slowed her down much.

 

It took Nigel’s high-pitched outraged whining to snap Varian back into the conversation.  “Your Highness, you can’t order an evacuation and then just abandon everyone! We need you inside the castle, and it is most unbecoming to sprint off to who-knows-where with-”

 

“No one is being abandoned, Nigel.  Are you telling me you have no confidence in your ability to give basic directions to the townsfolk?  They’re pretty understanding when you explain things calmly,” Rapunzel said, staring him down. “All the preparations have been made.  This is not something last-minute, unforeseen, or reckless. I am entrusting you with the relatively simple task of moving people from point A to point B.  If you have your orders, I fail to see what the problem could be.”

 

“They need to have eyes on a strong leader in a time of crisis, and if someone asks me where you are, and I have to tell them you are gallivanting about with a friend on an evening constitutional-”

 

“You tell them I am taking action to abate further property damage in person, which happens to be an accurate description,” Rapunzel cut in.

 

Nigel clearly wanted to argue more, and if Varian had to listen to the man’s pretentious fake accent any more, he was going to lose it.  He was already wound far tighter than was recommended. He reached out a hand to tap Rapunzel gently on the arm. She turned and must have caught the expression on his face and his hand pointing to the door, because her eyes softened.

 

“You’re going to need a thicker coat and snow boots.  I think my extras will fit you. If you want to go to my room and suit up, I’ll be right behind you, okay?”

 

He nodded, grateful, and fled.

 

* * *

 

Eugene couldn’t explain the fear that was blossoming at the base of his spine with every step.  It was automatic, almost mechanical, that he raced back to his own chambers and threw everything potentially of use in a pack.  His winter wear was already laid out from earlier that day, and yanking on the thick, fur-lined boots was about the last of the personal preparations he needed to make.

 

As a thief, learning to trust one’s gut came first and foremost.  Sometimes it was a false alarm, but better to run prepared than be caught and killed... or jailed.  Initially, his gut had told him nothing at all, and that was the sole reason he’d tried to talk Rapunzel off the evacuation ledge.

 

But then she’d looked him dead in the eyes and with the solemnity of a funeral, she’d stood by her choice.  That was all it took to plant the seed of doubt in Eugene’s mind. As much as he trusted his own gut, which had saved his life time and time again... he trusted Rapunzel’s more.  She seemed so sure, so convinced of it. She had to have evidence, even if she couldn’t explain what it was she’d seen or heard that had prompted her conclusions.

 

Eugene had one last stop in the castle before he needed to find himself a horse and haul ass.  The medical ward had plenty of bandages and disinfecting solutions, but Eugene had little to no idea what could be used on-site if hypothermia came to call.  Extra furs, maybe. Any hot water bottle wouldn’t stay hot for long in this weather. Definitely a dry change of clothing. It wasn’t weird to root through one’s parents-in-law’s closets and pack some of their clothing, right?  It felt like there had to be laws or something against rooting through their underwear drawer, so that task was best left to someone Not Eugene.

 

Luckily, with the help of one of the guards stationed by the royal bedchambers, Eugene managed to pack up everything he’d need in a convenient roll of furs and clothes, wrapped in an oiled cloth to keep any moisture out.  All that was left was to strap it to a horse.

 

Along the streets of Corona, word of the evacuation hadn’t yet leaked (he would have been infinitely surprised if it had), but the citizens could sense danger in the air; the streets were empty.  Windows were boarded up for safety in the fierce wind and the typical roadside stalls had been packed away. Anything that wasn’t nailed down had been moved indoors to reduce the risk of projectiles.  The snow itself was piling in rising snowbanks along the sides of the roads, climbing up the stonework and hiding the gray slush from earlier foot traffic.

 

Eugene thought he’d bundled up well enough for the weather, but he’d failed to account for wind chill entirely.  The wind physically _ hurt.  _  His ears and nose went numb almost instantly, and the rush of icy air filling his lungs was a stab to the abdomen he hadn’t been expecting.

 

“Fucking- wait, this is Corona.  Land of sunshine and daisies. Why the hell do we have Namorn weather?  What is this, the North Pole?” he muttered to himself, teeth chattering.  He adjusted the collar of his coat to cover as much of his nose and mouth as possible.  “Don’t recall signing up for this shit.”

 

And with that, in the absolute dearth of humanity that was Corona’s town square, Eugene thought he saw an enormous white blob thundering in his direction from far down the way.

 

It was too far away to see clearly, but that didn’t stop the ice from finding its way to Eugene’s stomach.  Max. It had to be. And if Max was here, but the monarchs hadn’t returned with him...

 

Rapunzel had been right about everything.

 

She’d been right from the beginning, and they had still been too late to prevent disaster.

 

After a lifetime of running from the law and stealing to eat, Eugene really shouldn’t have been surprised that the world was unfair.

 

* * *

 

Rapunzel swept into her room just as Varian was tugging on a thick sweater that was ten times softer than anything he’d ever owned, and the slam of the door behind her sent Rudiger hiding under a chair.

 

“Please tell me you have another three layers on under that,” she said.

 

He was too worked up to roll his eyes like he wanted.  “I’ve got an undershirt, my regular shirt, my shop vest, then this.  And I’m going to put on a coat, so five layers total.”

 

She nodded.  “Make it six.  A shawl or cloak should help with the wind.”

 

“Brought my own cloak,” he said, gesturing to where it was slung over the back of the chair Rudiger was hiding under.

 

“Okay.  Now I just have to throw on a few more layers myself and we can set out.”  She dove into her closet.

 

Varian’s fingers found the hem of the sweater (which was somehow still too big for him) and worried the heavy knit of it.  “Rapunzel?”

 

“Yeah?” her voice called from within.

 

“What is... going on, I guess?  I’m not sure how to phrase it.”

 

She emerged, yanking on what looked like two knitted petticoats over thick woolen leggings.  “Zhan Tiri thinks Corona is easy pickings. I beg to differ.”

 

“How sure are you the storm is supernatural?” he asked.

 

She paused.  “You know, come to think of it, I wouldn’t say I’m sure about it at all.  But either way, storms that threaten lives aren’t something I want to take lightly or at face value.  As pessimistic as it is to say, I feel like I should always expect something worse to happen. Especially if I’m the one in charge at the time.  If I don’t make sure my people are provided for in every situation, who will?”

 

“Look, that makes a lot of sense and all, but this whole-” he tapped the manuscript with a hand, “ _ -this _ thing is a little bonkers.”

 

“Could be,” Rapunzel said, grabbing two pairs of gloves and tossing one to Varian.

 

He caught one glove (Rudiger, bless him, managed to catch the other.  What he was meant to do with a second pair of gloves was beyond him) and tried to wet his lips, already cracking at little and bleeding in the cold.  “You heard what Cass said. Even if it’s still around, and even if we somehow by sheer miracle  _ find  _ it, it’s probably in such poor condition that we’ll never be able to get it running.  So why are we doing this instead of looking for a better way?”

 

She gave him an odd look.  “You’re holding a written guide on how to get that exact machine up and running, and you happen to be one of the most brilliant engineers in the country - actually, considering that invention festival thing had international competitors, I’d put you near the top of the list for the continent.  I may not know the machine’s exact location, but I have a good idea about how to find it. After that, whatever I can do to help, just name it. We can do this.”

 

Varian groaned.  “That’s not- okay, I would love it if it were that simple, and it would be great if I had the kind of confidence you’ve got about all this, but I feel really strongly that we should maybe gamble all our lives on surer bets.”

 

Rapunzel grabbed an immense scarf and tied it around Varian’s neck, staring him dead in the eye.  “I see where you’re coming from, but... Varian, I really hope I get to meet whoever it was who convinced you that you weren’t worth trusting, because I’m going to slap them into next week.”

 

He could only gape in silence as she finished suiting herself up.

 

This woman was insane.

 

“I’m going to regret asking this, but you mentioned having a lead on the location.  Where were you thinking?” he asked.

 

She held the door for him as they left, snow boots making squeaks on the clean floors.  “Uh, less a ‘where’ and more a ‘who’.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Well... earlier, Xavier mentioned something about the legend of Demanitus to you, right?  And that’s why you were looking into it in the archives?”

 

“Ye- oh.  Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

 

“Xavier is the country’s best historian, and nobody’s sure how it happened.  His family was pretty big on oral tradition, I guess. We’ve pitted him against actual internationally-renown historians about myths and legends the continent over, and he can wipe the floor with most of them.  It’s kind of incredible when you think about it,” Rapunzel said.

 

“Okay, I seriously doubt the oral history contains anything about the exact location of a giant-”

 

“Won’t know ‘til we ask him though, right?”

 

They were almost at the palace entrance when Varian stopped short, feeling the tug at his pant leg.  Rudiger looked up at him with those enormous eyes, then cast a glance at the thick sheets of ice visibly caking the windows.

 

“Oh.  Oh no, buddy.”  He bent down to pet the fur of Rudiger’s cheeks.  “You’ll be much safer here. They don’t make winter coats for raccoons.  I’ll be back soon, and then we can head home together, okay?” Tiny raccoon hands reached up to pet his hair in a way that was probably meant to be comforting, and Varian couldn’t help the tiny smile that cracked across his face.  “I promise. It’s gonna be okay, buddy.”

 

Rapunzel fidgeted, and glanced down at the neck of her hood.  Pascal popped his tiny head out and gave her a look. “I know,” she said, “but-”

 

Pascal blew her a raspberry.

 

“It’s not that crazy a concern.  You’re cold-blooded, Pascal. There’s only so much my body heat can do to keep you safe.  What kind of partner would I be if I brought you into an incredibly dangerous situation on purpose?  What would you do if your tongue froze solid? I don’t think they make medicine for that.”

 

“Can confirm, they don’t make medicine for that,” Varian said.  “Unless you consider dumping boiling water on your face to be medicine, which I don’t.”

 

Rapunzel gently pulled her best friend from her coat to look him in the eye.  “Besides, I have a bad feeling. Nigel... look, it’s not that I don’t trust he’ll do a good job, but he’s been acting very strange lately, and he gave me a lot of fuss about the evacuation.  Cass is going to be busy helping the guard escort people, so she can’t keep an eye on whatever Nigel’s doing. I need you to be my eyes and ears in the castle.”

 

“Information _ is _ the world’s most dangerous weapon.”

 

“And I like to be well-armed.  Pascal, can I count on you?” she asked.

 

Pascal heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes as far as they would go, but nodded, climbing up onto Rudiger’s furry shoulders and snuggling in.

 

Rapunzel offered the pair a salute before grabbing a lantern by the entrance and pulling Varian behind her as the two of them braved the first sweep of wind of the storm outside.

 

It was a damn good thing both of them knew the route to Xavier’s forge by heart, because the snow whirled so around them in such thick sheets, neither could see more than a few feet in front of them.  Varian made the idiot mistake of gasping, and the cold air did his throat no favors, even through the scarf. The snow was already about a foot higher than it had been just a few hours prior, which seemed a lot more dangerous now that Varian was quite a bit shorter than usual.

 

Honestly, Varian remembered very little of his first trek through all of this, so many years ago.  He’d been busy panicking about his father’s fate, and being a determined little cuss. At the time, he’d also spent most of the journey at a a reasonable distance away from Corona, and only got the worst of it towards the end.  Here, he was in the thick of it from the very beginning, and had the presence of mind to take in just how bad it was. How had he ever survived this? The first run, he’d only had his normal clothing and his cloak. No warm sweaters or scarves as gifts from a princess hell-bent on jamming her foot up an immortal warlock’s ass.  If Varian didn’t know better, he’d say Rapunzel was much more frightening than the blizzard.

 

Rapunzel herself turned to look at him, then jerked her head a little.  Right; she couldn’t exactly point the way with a lantern in one hand and Varian’s own hand clenched in the other.  If they got lost or separated in this, they were screwed. He followed the line of her sight just a ways ahead, and the line of his mouth hardened as he saw.

 

The guards at the front gates were long gone.  The gate itself was wide open on one side, less because someone had opened it and more because it seemed water had made its way into one of the hinges and expanded into ice in the cold, wrenching the wrought iron away from the substrate.  It hung lopsidedly from the one prevailing hinge.

 

Well, at least they wouldn’t need a key for that.

 

The steady plod down the road to the northern section of town might have been a short one, but there were still signs of damage along every quarter.  A decapitated snowman had been impaled with a flying tree branch, its disembodied head some three blocks away up against a shopfront’s storm drain. A wagon with a broken wheel someone hadn’t been able to move was already little more than a lump of white.  A fissure had opened in the side of the fountain in the square as the ice expanded in the pipes with nowhere to go.

 

Varian just counted himself lucky that they hadn’t encountered any bodies.  The homeless population of Corona was low, but it wasn’t zero. He could only pray they’d all found safe, warm places to stay.  Or at the very least, that they were included in the evacuation order. Warm blankets and food would be distributed regardless of someone’s income or housing situation, so it was a start.

 

The front of the forge was nigh unrecognizable.  The shopfront had been little more than a tent at a glance, but the brick and mortar wasn’t going down so easily.  The outer sheets of fabric had been drawn closed and tied down so thoroughly, it barely rippled even in gale force winds.  Sheet metal, unbeknownst to a passerby, was stitched between the layers of fabric, making it impervious even to sword blades.

 

Luckily, the padlock securing the tent flaps closed was less impervious to keys.

 

“I got it,” he said, straining to be heard through layers of wool and howling wind.  Rapunzel nodded and stepped aside to give him room, holding up the lantern to the lock.  He reached for his pants pocket and discovered a slight issue.

 

“Everything all right?” she asked.

 

“Uh, yeah!  Definitely. I have the key.  I just... shit, I gotta- oh no, it’s stuck,” Varian said.  Sure enough, his fingers, double-layered in gloves, were too big to fit into his pocket.  He should have just taken the stupid things off. Why hadn’t he done that? Was it to prove dominance or something?  And now he was just an idiot with his hand stuck in his own pocket and yanking at it like an imbecile in front of royalty.  “I’m a good person and I don’t deserve this,” he lied to no one.

 

“You need some help?”

 

Varian gave her the flattest look possible and gave one final yank on his pocket before both gloves popped right off his hand.  Free at last, he gripped the gloves and pulled them loose, catching the key that flew out after them. Into the lock it went. Easy as pie.  “I’m a grown-up,” he informed Rapunzel.

 

“I know,” she assured him.  Her pity stung worse than the cold.

 

Inside, the forge was still alit, and miraculously enough, warm.

 

Varian pulled the gloves off his other hand and slapped them together a little to heat them up, holding them close to the smoldering embers in the forge itself.  Xavier had probably blown it out in preparation for the evacuation, but left a few lanterns lit for visibility.

 

“When did those happen?” Rapunzel asked.  Her voice was small.

 

“Huh?” he asked.

 

“Your hands.”

 

Oh.  He’d forgotten, to be honest.  His hands were scarred and mottled from years of less-than-perfect protective equipment and clumsiness.  For the most part, he never removed his gloves, so this would have been the first time Rapunzel had ever seen them.  “Don’t worry about ‘em. No permanent damage. They’re just not pretty is all.”

 

“All of it looks like it hurt at the time, though.”

 

“Not necessarily.  See these?” Varian pointed to a few massive dark brown splotches of skin across the knuckles of his left hand.  “Concentrated nitric acid. It didn’t hurt, but boy did it itch like crazy for two weeks. And then all of a sudden my skin is dyed another color and it won’t turn back.  I got a few more like that on my elbows. Turns out gloves do not help much if you have acid on your hands, your sleeves rolled up, and an itchy elbow.”

 

“Why do you sound almost  _ proud  _ of being covered in burns?” Rapunzel asked.

 

“What do you mean?  It  _ is  _ a point of pride.  I mean, that’s how you know who’s really serious about their craft, right?  If I met a carpenter who had perfectly smooth hands with no calluses, I’d be really suspicious about how well they know anything.  Every carpenter has managed to hammer their own thumb at least a couple of times, no matter their skill level. Some master alchemists have, like, half their faces melted smooth from lab accidents.  True professionals, right there.”

 

“I am a professional and I must say, I have never managed to melt half my face,” Xavier’s voice came from the back room of the forge.  Both of them jumped, to be met with laughter and the blacksmith himself emerged, bedecked in his own winter gear. “I won’t deny that my arms and hands have suffered quite a few pinprick burns over the years from debris, though.  And the beard. Can’t grow too long a beard when you’re a blacksmith. It simply burns away.” He turned his attention to Varian. “It is good to see you are unharmed. I confess that I worried when night fell and the storm worsened and you had not returned.”

 

Varian winced.  “Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t hurry back.  I wasn’t expecting it to kick off this quickly.”  His eyes flicked over to the princess and back again.  “So... I don’t suppose you...”

 

Xavier winked.  “I just returned from making my deliveries.  They were very well received. Your efforts were not in vain, it seems.”

 

Varian couldn’t stop himself from beaming.

 

“You were making deliveries?  In this weather?” Rapunzel asked, aghast.

 

“I’ll explain when we get back,” Varian said, pulling his gloves back on.  “For now, didn’t we have something we needed to ask Xavier?”

 

“Oh!  Right. Sorry.  Got sidetracked.  Anyway-” she said, “Xavier, you wouldn’t happen to remember exactly where Demanitus’s weather changer machine thingy is, do you?”

 

_ He’s not gonna, _ Varian thought.   _ What are the fucking odds that anyone on the planet- _

 

“I may have knowledge of such things.”

 

_ I have come to the conclusion that I am being punked. _

 

“Can you lead us there?  It’s important.”

 

“Your Highness, I cannot think what you mean to do there.  The machine is little but a relic of ages past.”

 

Rapunzel straightened.  “That’s all right. As long as you get can us there, trust that I’ll - that _ we’ll  _ \- take care of the rest.  Varian, you’ve got the manuscript?”

 

“Huh?  Oh. Yeah, here it is.”  He pulled a few layers aside a bit to allow the corner of the manuscript’s leather cover to show through.  The ties of his shop apron held it securely against his chest, safe from the snow.

 

Xavier was silent for a moment, then nodded.  “You both must promise me that you will be safe.”

 

“Don’t worry.  If anything looks too dicey, I solemnly swear to grab Varian and run like the dickens,” Rapunzel said.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Then I will show you the way.  Follow me,” Xavier said. With that, he made his way to the hooded fireplace, reached the the decorative horseshoes on the right hand side, and rotated the foremost one around.

 

With a groan and a cloud of dust, the entire fireplace shifted to the left to reveal a passageway leading down a set of steps into a room of carved stone.  A glance down at the floor where the fireplace had once stood revealed a set of complex winches and gears that interlocked, cut from thick steel plate metal that gleamed in the low light.

 

Varian gaped.

 

“This entire kingdom is somehow my aesthetic.  Any other fun hidden passageways anyone wants to tell me exist?  Now’s the time. Come one, come all,” Varian said.

 

“Well, there’s always that one trap door underneath the royal vault, the cursed mummy crypt up in the mountain, the demonic summoning circle on the plateau-”

 

“How dare any of you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	8. Boops Boops in a Bucket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solutions To Self-Esteem Issues For Nerds

It took three quarters of an hour just to find the chamber deep underground, but Varian had to admit it was worth it just to take in the mind-boggling sight of a machine the size of a battleship, gloriously stretching up out of sight into the shadows above.

 

“Everyone, shut up.  This is the only thing I’m going to talk about for the next hundred years,” he said.

 

Rapunzel laughed.  “I had a feeling you’d appreciate it.  Big machine nobody understands in a secret tunnel and all.”

 

“Appreciate doesn’t half cover it,” he said.  Gingerly, he pulled the manuscript free of his clothing, comparing the drawings to the original.  “For being three hundred years overdue for a maintenance inspection, it’s looking to be in pretty good condition.”

 

“No chunks missing or anything?”

 

“Not that I can tell.  But seriously, there’s no way to get the proper sense of scale from the drawings alone.  This is unreal,” Varian said.

 

Xavier walked around the perimeter of it, taking note of what had to be the control panel.  “Looks may be deceiving in person as well as on the page. I will be very surprised indeed if the machine is in perfect working order.”

 

Rapunzel and Varian both grimaced.

 

Sure enough, there wouldn’t be a way to check the condition of the inner workings.  Not when the top of the machine wasn’t even visible from their vantage point on the ground, and thick plates of metal obscured most of what they _could_ reach.

 

Varian peered up at the ceiling.  “I’m now somehow doubly confused, though.  I thought this thing was supposed to be a weather machine, right?  Something that can generate a cyclone with the opposite rotation of the winter storm, annihilating it on contact.  But, uh… how’s that one going to work if it’s underground?”

 

“I think the ceiling opens up,” Rapunzel said.  “How else would they have gotten it down here in the first place?  Even if they broke it up into parts and assembled it down here, the biggest metal plates I’m seeing wouldn’t fit in any of the connecting tunnel openings.”

 

“Wait, but wasn’t that hundreds of years ago?  What are we under right now? What if somebody, like, built their house right on top of this chamber?” Varian asked.

 

“The evacuation orders should be mostly complete by now,” Xavier said.  “Surely it would be better to lose a house or two, with only things inside, rather than risk incalculable threat to human life.”

 

“Try telling that to the poor shmuck whose house it is.”

 

“We need to get a move on, I think.  The storm is probably much worse now,” Rapunzel said.

 

“If you can try to get the ceiling to open up, I can double-check the mechanisms I can see,” Varian said.  He looked Xavier up and down. “What are the odds someone taller than me can give me a boost? Not that I’m saying I’m short.  I could just, uh, use a lift.”

 

Xavier chuckled.  “Better you take a look than me.  I’m afraid I know very little about complex mechanical engineering.  Nor, come to think of it, does anyone.”

 

Varian paused, the corners of his mouth twisting down.  “Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Xavier hoisted the boy onto his shoulders, offering a better vantage point.

 

It was just profoundly strange, was all.

 

It was no exaggeration to say that Demanitus was the mind of a century.  A brilliant wizard and engineer, he had created far more than the gargantuan device before them.  A combination of magic and machine designed to do almost anything, even thwart a warlock with the strength of a god.  Demanitus was also known for philosophy and prophecies and wisdom and all sorts of other garbage they put into songs and plays and saucy novels.

 

So what was his legacy?

 

Nothing.

 

Somehow, some way, absolutely none of Demanitus’s inventions had really changed the way lives were lived.  Hundreds of years later, and technology had been advanced so little that nobody, Varian included, could figure out his inventions even with the aid of schematics.  Human innovation had stagnated, if not outright reversed. It made no sense at all.

 

The way scientific progress was made was through trial and error, and Varian knew perfectly well that each scientist had to build off the conclusions of those who came before, tweaking and modifying known theories to fit new evidence.  It wasn’t that Demanitus was a secretive man who hid away all records of his inventions to keep them from being stolen; Varian literally had a sheaf of diagrams of the damn thing in his hand, diagrams that had been publicly distributed to anyone with an interest or a maintenance job.

 

So why was technology so far behind?

 

They should have had floating carriages by now.  Human flight. The ability to teleport, or something.  _Anything._

 

And yet, here Xavier was, making a forge out of some clay bricks and wood chips soaked in oil.  Here the archives were, just boxes with papers haphazardly shoved inside. Here the royal guards were, limited to the same weapons and armor they’d had for thousands of years with no changes to the base design.  Here medicine was, unable to keep up with the demand of even a small village getting sick around the same time, or curb the spread of plague. Here the nation’s greatest scientists and warriors were, unable to break so much as a single shimmering black spike of rock.

 

If Varian didn’t know better, he’d say someone or something had deliberately erased all physical records of Demanitus’s research from the annals of history.

 

Well, not _all._   There was at least one record still balanced precariously on Varian’s knees.

 

“I think we struck lucky,” he said loudly enough that Rapunzel could hear him from her vantage point halfway up the walls, looking for any kind of lever.  “The moisture in the air down here is really low, so no rusting. That, and this doesn’t look like any alloy I know. There might not be any carbon in this at all.”

 

“I was thinking that myself,” Xavier said.  “Iron is a given, but to keep it from rusting… tin, do you think?”

 

Varian shook his head.  “Nah. Lower reactivity.  I’m going to guess nickel and… I don’t know, maybe chromium, from the color.  And just keeping it balanced.”

 

“No carbon means no heat treat.”

 

“Can you imagine a forge big enough for this whole thing?  Just one of those plates… You ever tried forging something in a volcano?”

 

“No, but it sounds interesting.  I believe I’ve heard a legend of a magical ring that was forged in the heart of a volca-”

 

“Please focus.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Bad news is that it kinda looks like there’s a lot of dirt and dust and spiderwebs and other gross stuff in here.  I mean, I don’t think it’s a problem, but this is only what I can see readily. If there are rocks anywhere gumming up the works, we might be in trouble,” Varian said.

 

Rapunzel looked the machine up and down.  “Only way to know for sure would be to climb inside, I suppose.  And nobody here is doing that.”

 

“Nobody here would _fit,”_ Varian said.

 

“True, but even if they did, I still wouldn’t let them in there.  I mean, it looks very easy to get crushed to death between gears.”

 

“I like my body in its current configuration and proportions,” Xavier said.

 

“Right on.  Seconded.”

 

“Did you find some way of getting the ceiling open?” Varian asked.

 

“Uh... maybe?  There are quite a few levers, but I have no idea which ones do what, and a lot of the stuff down here is booby-trapped.  If I just run around pulling all of them, I can imagine it going poorly in a hurry,” Rapunzel said.

 

Varian considered a moment.  “You have indestructible hair that can wrap around things or people for protection purposes, yes?”

 

“...I’m not sure I like where you’re headed with this.”

 

Varian did not give her time to think on it before walking right over to an unmarked lever nearest him on the side of the machine and pulling with his full strength.

 

With a groan that rattled the teeth in all their skulls, the plating at the base of the structure began to rotate, folding in on itself like an accordion in a billowing cloud of dust and dirt to reveal a... compartment?  Room? A perfectly round cavern of sorts, roughly ten feet in diameter. Its purpose was obvious enough in the form of the single massive rotary winch inside.

 

“Huh.  Wasn’t expecting that,” Varian said, consulting the schematics.  “But I guess it’s nice to know that’s there. I did wonder how you turned the thing on, so I guess this answers that question.”

 

“Out of curiosity, may I ask what you were expecting to result from that lever if not this?” Xavier asked.

 

“Oh, I wanted to set off traps on purpose.  We’re going to be rattling things around so much, we’re guaranteed to set off every trap in here whether we touch them or not.  Better to get it out of the way while we’re expecting it and able to defend ourselves,” said Varian, rolling his eyes. “Trust the one time I’m hoping for a trap to be the one time it’s not a trap.  My luck in a nutshell.” He clicked his tongue in disgust.

 

Rapunzel pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply.  “Okay, please give us some warning _before_ you do stuff like that.  But... I see where you’re coming from.  Both of you, take shelter in the little room you just opened up.  I should be able to dodge whatever I set off as long as I don’t have to worry about getting you two stabbed or incinerated or something else unpleasant.”

 

With that, her attention turned to the series of mechanisms set into the wall, most low enough that she could pull levers, press buttons, and flip switches without the aid of a step ladder.  Xavier scuttled to safety, climbing down the steep open ledge and dragging Varian by the coat collar with him.

 

“But I wanna see-!”

 

“Best still have eyes to do that in the future then, lad.”

 

Rapunzel wasn’t listening.  She cast her eyes upward, catching on several stabilizing beams connecting to the machine itself, as well as the inevitable outcroppings of black spikes.  She’d have to avoid those and swing only from what was safe to touch. The less contact she had with the floor (or rocks that exploded at her touch), the better.

 

She was going to have to speedrun it.

 

“Well... here goes.”  She wished Pascal were there.

 

Her back muscles strained as she slung her hair over a beam with the speed of a whip, a foot slamming into a button as her arms hoisted her out of range.  She cleared the floor none too soon. The stone panel where her feet had once been fell away to reveal some very sharp spikes just below. No time to dwell on it though, because Rapunzel was swinging on to the next one: a brass winch.

 

“You good?” Varian’s voice called out from below.

 

“Yeah!  No problem!” she yelled back.  Stupid winch was going to take more time than pressing a button.

 

The winch produced automatically-firing arrows and one outlier spear that bounced off Rapunzel’s hair like rain.

 

The switch after it made some central portion of the weather machine rotate around at a low speed, although what that even began to accomplish was unclear.

 

The second button dropped some kind of acid that put a hole in Rapunzel’s good wool petticoats, and now she was just irritated.

 

“There’s only one thing left that I can see!  You two, get ready to... I don’t know, fire it up or something, because this has to be it,” she called.

 

Just two levers, set into the same panel.  Rapunzel dropped to the floor and grasped one handle in each hand, the ancient leather wrappings crumbling away slightly at her touch.

 

Varian turned to the winch as ordered, but something just... felt wrong.

 

It shouldn’t have been this easy.  Just wandering down some dusty hallways and flipping a few switches?  Pushing a rotary mill? None of it jived with Varian’s personal experiences.

 

It was centuries old.  It was built by a crazy magician-slash-engineer who then proceeded to vanish off the face of the planet for inexplicable reasons.  There had to be a catch somewhere.

 

But there was no time to think, because Rapunzel threw the levers, and just like that, the scream of metal echoed high above their heads, and then came the telltale sounds of an avalanche.

 

“Rapunzel!” he screamed.  “Quickly!”

 

“Yeah, working on it!”

 

“Fuck,” Varian whispered.

 

Not much in the way of starlight was making its way down to the floor of the cave, but mother of mercy, did the snow crashing down more than make up for it. Metallic clangs and bashes from what could only be rocks and hail colliding with machinery provided a staccato backdrop for the screaming of the wind, invading the new real estate with gusto.  The relative safety of the inner chamber left very little visibility for the rest of the room, and there was no way to see where in the hell Rapunz-

 

No sooner did the thought occur than a bedraggled princess swung bodily into the chamber feet first, crashing into Varian and bowling him over.

 

“Oh, no!  I’m sorry.  Really didn’t mean to do that.  You okay?”

 

Varian spat out snow.  “Y-yeah. I’m more padded than usual.”  He flapped his very-well-insulated arms like a penguin to illustrate.

 

“So what now?  We just turn this thing?” she asked.

 

Xavier nodded.  “I do not see much else we can do.  There is room for us all to have a good grip.”

 

“Hang on,” Varian said.  “Coriolis effect. We’re in the northern hemisphere, so low pressure fronts like storms spin counterclockwise-”

 

“-So if we want to counteract the storm, we need to go the opposite,” finished Rapunzel.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Each grabbed hold of one of the handles protruding from the central pillar, and began to push for all they were worth.

 

Some were worth considerably more than others.

 

“What the ever-loving fuck,” Varian gasped out.  “How much do these things weigh?”

 

“More than your average bear, I’m guessing,” Rapunzel said through gritted teeth.  Somehow, she was keeping up with Xavier, who was himself built like a bear. Varian suddenly recalled her ability to fling nearly 80 feet of hair around like it was nothing, and to use that hair to hoist a full party of friends and horses off of cliffsides or whatever it was she kept doing with it.  She had to be able to bench press a few anvils stacked atop one another, easy.

 

Varian, on the other hand, could maybe bench press a wooden bench.  If it was short. Really short. And also a lightweight wood, like cedar.  So, basically a stool.

 

“Come on, you can do it.”

 

“Some of us are not- oh, shit,” Varian said, gloved hands sliding off the handle rather than gripping it.  “Some of us are not able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, you know. Some of us,” he paused to wheeze, “are the size of a peppercorn and that’s okay.”

 

Incredibly, it was working.  The central pillar of the winch was rotating, and the upper mechanisms were all chugging along to match.  Somehow, even after all that time, after all the disrepair it had fallen into, Demanitus’s legacy had not yet destroyed itself.

 

How had it not gone wrong yet?

 

And no sooner had the thought occurred to Varian than an ominous thud resounded from above their heads, the winch stopping dead in its tracks.

 

Three pairs of eyes stared at each other, but it was Rapunzel who said in a hushed voice, “Something must have fallen into the gears.”

 

“From above?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Like a house?  Or a tree? Or a boulder?”

 

“Or all three.”

 

“What happened to that princess optimism of yours?”

 

“I blew it just hoping to find this thing in working condition in the first place.  I’m all tapped out.”

 

Xavier cast calculating eyes to the rest of the chamber as they spoke, estimating the amount of shrapnel and snow still raining down from the opened ceiling, watching the wind fling everything it could touch.

 

“Varian,” he said.

 

“Huh?  What?”

 

“Do you still have the blueprints out?”

 

Varian blinked in surprise a moment, but retrieved the documents.  “You think we can figure out-”

 

“-where it landed.  Precisely. If we know where-”

 

“-then we can get it out pretty fast without risking our necks too much,” Varian finished.  “Sounds like a plan.”

 

The documents were flattened against the smooth wall of the chamber.  Upon closer inspection, the chamber itself did seem to be on the blueprints after all.  Varian hadn’t recognized the lines for what they were and had assumed it was just another indication of inner mechanisms that wouldn’t be accessible.

 

The noise from above them had sounded like it came from more than halfway up the machine.  Bad news - there didn’t seem to be any visible access panel that could be removed without specialized equipment that neither Varian nor Xavier had had the prescience to bring along.

 

“You’re both making upset faces,” Rapunzel said.  The nerves were creeping into her voice. “Please tell me why you’re doing that.”

 

Varian huffed in frustration.  “That can’t be all there is. This whole machine can’t possibly be driven solely by the physical prowess of whatever three idiots can fit down here in this one little room.  Look; there’s a fuel line here, here, and here on the schematics. What are they for? We can’t get to the blockage like this to dislodge it, so literally our only hope is to shove this thing into overdrive and pray it breaks whatever’s in there into dust.  If there are fuel lines, there has to be additional horsepower we can squeak out of this. We just need to know how it _works.”_

 

“The legends all say this is a machine run both by feats of engineering and magic,” Xavier said with a frown, “but I do not see where one is supposed to get the magic from.”

 

What?  No, that couldn’t be right.  Surely-

 

Another look at the schematics proved Xavier right.  Actually, Varian himself had bitched just a few hours ago that he couldn’t see any kind of input valve, and he’d been right then, too.

 

Well, if all the machine needed to find its giddy-up was some magic, two extremely magical individuals were in physical contact with it right now.

 

Wait.

 

Not quite.

 

Varian pulled off his gloves, feeling his fingers stiffen instantly in the freezing air.  He stuffed the gloves in a pocket and eyed the mechanisms on the central pillar of the winch a bit more carefully, as though they hid a nest of vipers.

 

“Hey, uh... I kind of want to try something,” he said softly.  He sent a meaningful glance Rapunzel’s way.

 

For Rapunzel’s part, it took her a brief moment to understand what he meant.  Her eyes widened and flicked over to Xavier. He just offered a half-hearted shrug.  If the man found out, it was fine. He wasn’t the type to gossip about anything that had taken place in the last century.  That, and there were lives on the line, so it was hardly a priority to keep it a secret anymore. Varian would just have to face the mortifying ordeal of being known.

 

The pillar itself did seem to have a few bits and bobs on it.  For each handlebar connecting to it, there was a little circular ring just above it, with a few words in the ancient tongue set into the bronze.  Varian was worse than rusty in it, but the first portion read something like ‘pull in the event of’ and then the rest was illegible. Probably ‘emergency’ from the context.  The ring itself wasn’t fused to the pillar by any means, which meant...

 

Varian’s finger curled around the open loop, and pulled.

 

Out it came with a thunk, connected now by-

 

Oh.  So _that_ was what it wanted from him.

 

It was a razor blade.  The magical fuel was supposed to be supplied via blood magic.  No wonder nobody wanted to replicate this particular machine for daily life.

 

“This seems a little overly dramatic, doesn’t it?” he murmured, squinting at it.  The thing was ancient. It’d probably give him tetanus if he tried it.

 

“Is that a-?” Rapunzel started.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That doesn’t seem sanitary.”

 

“That’s where my brain was headed.”

 

“I don’t understand; why would a weather machine use blood magic?”

 

Xavier craned his head around to get a look of his own.  “It was a good bit more common back in Lord Demanitus’s day.  All things considered, it was a fast and efficient way to maximize output, or something to that effect.  There are documents saying as much, but I would not classify dark wizards as the most unbiased of primary sources.”

 

“So how’d it fall out of favor?”

 

“It was creepy and people got infected.”

 

“Gross.”

 

“That was approximately the sentiment leading to the technological revolution, yes.”

 

Varian shrugged.  “I’m not touching that thing, but I think I have a backup plan for testing it,” he said.

 

The thing about the winter wind swirling around them was that it had a knack for chapping lips extremely quickly.  As much as Varian had tried to keep him lips from cracking, it hadn’t done much good. He bit at it a little to get the blood going, and swiped a bare thumb over his lower lip.

 

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but our options are limited: let’s trust the dark wizards for once.”  And with that, he wrapped his stained fingers around the handlebar before him.

 

It took a few seconds for the blood to sink into the wood, but once it did, the effect was instantaneous.  The entire machine shuddered and vibrated, and Xavier, who still held the schematics in one hand, drew back from his own handlebar as if burnt.  Varian wished he could do the same. If veins could somehow turn to the color gray, his were doing just that. It tingled in the single worst way imaginable, like radio wave interference boiling him from the inside out.  His fingers physically could not uncurl from where they rested, and what energy he’d had was draining fast.

 

“Oh, I hate that,” he whispered before crumpling.

 

“Varian!”

 

Rapunzel was by his side in an instant, pulling him over to the side so he could lean up against the inner walls of the chamber.

 

He shook his head and nodded to the winch.  “You gotta do the… I don’t think it’s done.”

 

Just because the machine had fuel didn’t mean it was functional yet.  Someone still had to turn the winch. Well, it wasn’t like Varian had been much help on that front, so it was nice that he’d finally found something useful to do.  Rapunzel turned back and forth between it and him, clearly torn, before biting a lip and nodding. “But if you start hurting, you let me know _immediately_ , okay?”

 

Varian nodded, and she was gone, crashing into a handlebar with the strength of an ox.  Xavier yelped and tried his best to keep up.

 

In a testament to superior design, sure enough, the winch managed to move.  The scream of metal on metal above was ungodly, but it was still _moving_.

 

Everyone could hear the instant the blockage was destroyed by sheer crushing force, and with that, the machine kicked into true overdrive.  Varian had never appreciated the force of nature that Rapunzel was before, but now it was hard to ignore. She was all but moving several tons of metal with brute strength alone; Xavier could barely contribute from the look of abject panic on the man’s face and how hard he was breathing.

 

The wind outside the compartment was starting to do something strange.  It twisted and pulled in conflicting directions, whipping around dust and snow and debris every which way.

 

“Keep going!” Varian said.  “I think it’s working!”

 

The velocity of particulates was nothing like it had been before.  Little by little, the force of the storm was being cancelled out.

 

The cold kept Varian awake, but the drain on his innate magic (and wasn’t that just bizarre to think about in those terms) left him too nauseated to consider standing up and visually confirming the status of the storm.  How would they know when they were done? When it was okay to stop? What if the storm just came back endlessly? If the thing was a curse, it shouldn’t be undone so easily as all this.

 

Just what purpose did the magical component even serve?  Surely it couldn’t be raw power alone. Varian had needed a catalytic converter for his time machine, and the schematics had no such thing.

 

“Moon…” he mumbled.  “ _Wind from stars_ … no, that can’t be it.  _White dust tides_ -” The snow sucked itself inward, covering everything and everyone in a thin white powder.  As Xavier and Rapunzel spluttered, Varian felt himself go numb. “ _To pull on ours._ ”

 

To pull.

 

Air pressure.

 

Of course.

 

Low pressure zones had air and the water in clouds rushing in to fill the gap and even out.  High pressure zones had the opposite effect, with air pushing away from the geographical point.  Low pressure, bad weather with wind and clouds. High pressure, clear skies.

 

Part of the moon’s innate ability was the power to _pull._

 

The machine certainly could undo the cyclone, but it couldn’t handle the reversal of the air pressure by itself.  That was where the magic came in. By sucking air from the atmosphere faster than it could normally travel, the much higher pressure would prevent the storm from re-forming.

 

The part that terrified Varian to his bones was the sudden knowledge that the magic wasn’t going to differentiate between air and object.

 

Because it was his.

 

The moon pulled on everything.  Water. Wind. Rock. Didn’t seem to matter much.  The sudden gusts that pulled debris closer to the base of the machine, visible and audible even from Varian’s poor vantage point, confirmed it.

 

“Varian?  Your face looks like something’s wrong,” Rapunzel said, never faltering from her position.

 

“I think you can stop now.  Actually, I think you should,” he said.

 

“Oh thanks be to heaven,” Xavier said, dropping and panting.  “I should have brought along a water flask. My legs are not what they used to be.”

 

“That wasn’t an answer, Varian.”  Before he could process, there she was, breathing just a little hard and staring at him just a little harder.  A hand came up to feel his forehead. “You don’t seem to be doing any worse. What’s going on?”

 

He tried to swallow around the panic.  “I think we’re in a high pressure zone.”

 

She blinked in confusion.  “What does that mean? Are we in danger here?”

 

“No, not us.  I just… the moon… it pulls water, Rapunzel.”

 

It was proof of Rapunzel’s cleverness that she only took a few seconds to grasp his meaning.  He could tell it dawned on her when he watched the blood leave her face.

 

“The bridge.”

 

“The water.”

 

“If the high tide is any higher than usual from the magic-”

 

“-it will flood the bridge between Corona and the mainland right as the evacuees are crossing it.”

 

Xavier’s head jerked up at that.  “What? N-no, that shouldn’t be… But…”

 

“They could die,” Varian whispered, pulling his knees up to cover his face.  “And it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have-”

 

“No.  No, to the whole thing.  Nobody’s dying, nothing’s your fault, and you should have done the exact thing you did.  Varian, nobody is dead right now.” Rapunzel wrapped her hands around Varian’s shoulders, leaning in to make absolutely certain he was listening to her.  “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you still feel the machine taking power from you?”

 

Varian paused to gauge his reserves, then nodded.  “It’s slower now, but it’s still going.” Rocks were steadily rolling towards the machine, clanging all around as they collided with the base.

 

“Then we need to shut it off.  End the connection. Keep it from getting any worse.”

 

He shook his head.  “Rapunzel, we’ve established I don’t know how to do that! I have _no_ control over this shit!  We _tried,_ you were _there,_ for fuck’s sake-”

 

“Calm down.  Breathe. You can do this.”

 

“A pep talk isn’t a substitute for expertise, Princess.”

 

She pinched the bridge of her nose.  “What if I try to help on my end? If we try the incantations simultaneously?  Your magic fights both of us independently, but if we both try at once…”

 

“I mean… Well, I guess it’s better than doing nothing,” Varian said.

 

“Exactly,” Rapunzel nodded in approval.  Her arms slid down until she could rest her hands in Varian’s own.  “Okay. Now… do you trust me?”

 

“I-what?”

 

Talk about loaded questions.

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

She’d kept his secret in this timeline.  Had offered to protect his secrets even when it wasn’t in her best interest to do so.  Kept doing her best to keep him safe. His father wasn’t hurt, but hers might be. She had gambled the safety of her entire kingdom, including her family, on Varian’s word alone, and didn’t seem to regret that decision even now.  Even when it was so obviously backfiring.

 

“...Yeah.  I trust you.”

 

“Then here we go.”

 

She held onto his hands ever tighter, closed her eyes, and something in the air shifted.

 

The ever-present drain faltered slightly, and for a dazzling second or two, Varian could breathe.

 

_Hold on.  Just hold on and say the stupid incantation.  You have backup. Maybe you’re trying to control something infinitely bigger and older than you… but you aren’t doing it alone._

 

**_Just try._ **

 

Varian opened his mouth, and the words pulled their way free of his tongue.

 

Each of the words felt heavier now.

 

_“The moon you felt, it has no side that’s dark like hell or safe from light-”_

 

 _“-Just blown apart,”_ Rapunzel’s faint voice joined his, _“by wind from stars with white dust tides-”_

 

_“-To pull on ours.”_

 

For Xavier, the only person whose eyes remained open throughout the ordeal, the effect was instantaneous, and hauntingly beautiful.

 

The first breath of the incantation calmed the surrounding winds, the sweep of debris, the clanging of the barrage against the machine’s exterior.  The second gave rise to the faintest of glows, only just perceptible in the dim light afforded by the stars shining through the open ceiling. Both Rapunzel and Varian were alight, gold and silver in the softest of ways.  For whatever reason, Xavier physically couldn’t hear much of the words spoken themselves; the constant massive shifts in air pressure left his ears popping uncomfortably, and the vertigo associated wasn’t helping. But he had to stay awake.  Had to pay attention.

 

Magic wasn’t a thing you saw every day, even if you made a habit of studying all you could about it.

 

Xavier had spent a lifetime absorbing tales and legends and prophecies and historical blurbs, had forgotten more of the old magic oral tradition than most would ever know, but he hadn’t laid eyes on the powerful stuff.  Not ever.

 

And so it was only to his mild surprise that as the two of his young companions finished the final verse, they both passed out on the snowy floor, dead asleep.

 

And all was calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rapunzel joins mulan in the club of disney princesses who can bench press a camry and if you disagree you may go into the other room where the wrong people are


End file.
